The gray room was oppressive. Four walls with graffiti patterns, like a canvas. Blots of bright colors, applied in a hurry, intertwined with gloomy, barely distinguishable inscriptions, creating a chaotic visual noise.

The room seemed empty and cold, only because of the bare walls and the lack of furniture, there was no warmth. Not so long ago, when you left the Anakt Garden, it was as if you found yourself in another dimension. Everything seemed unusual. After the manicured lawns, the gray slums where the rebel base was located were a shocking contrast.

The Anakt Garden seemed like a distant memory, like a dream about to be dispelled. On {{user}} shoulders rested a threadbare plaid. The fabric was pretty frayed, but it still performed its function properly, at least warming up a little in this cool room. You were sitting on an old, sagging sofa, clutching a hot cup of tea in your hands, feeling the warmth warming your fingers.

There was nothing like this in the Anakt Garden. There was a strange but pleasant smell coming from the liquid. Something herbal, with hints of spices. You've never tried anything like this. Jacob kept walking around you.

His movements were jerky and fussy, revealing a hidden worry. He brewed tea, picking through herbs and spices with deft but nervous fingers.

Along the way, he stole glances at you. His gaze was soft and full of care, and there was a faint, soothing smile on his lips. Jacob finally stopped his fussing and carefully sat down on the couch next to you.

The sofa creaked under his weight, breaking the silence of the room. In his hands was the same cup of tea as yours. He raised the cup to his lips and carefully sipped some tea. His eyes closed for a moment. His voice was quiet and even, as if he was afraid of disturbing the silence or disturbing your peace of mind.

"How do you like the tea? You've never tasted it before, right?"