Page 119 of Falcon’s Forever

"Same rule," Falcon says eventually.

"You good with that?"

"No. But I'm doing it."

That's exactly what I told him last night. He wants to chase, and he chooses not to anyway, and the change is believable precisely because it costs him something to make it.

I step away before anyone finds me listening. The kitchen's empty, so I make real coffee instead of the watery stuff from the hospital, and a few minutes later footsteps approach. I know who it is before I turn around.

Falcon stops in the doorway when he sees me. "Morning."

"Morning."

He doesn't come any closer right away, I notice, and I don't mind noticing.

"Did you sleep?" he asks.

"A little."

"Emily?"

"In my bed. I got kicked out."

His eyebrows go up. "Basically," I say, and pour a second mug without being asked. "Do you want one?"

He looks at the mug, then at me. "Yeah. Please."

I hand it over, and our fingers touch, and neither of us pulls away too fast. It's small. It still means something.

"Thanks," he says.

He takes a drink and stops. "Jesus."

"What?"

"This is good," he says, taking another sip.

"It's only coffee."

"Harrier's been lying to us."

I laugh. He leans against the counter, a comfortable distance between us, no urgency in it.

"I heard you," I say.

His brows lift. "That's ominous."

“Talking to Vulture and Zip."

"Ah."

"You think they're trying to split the club again."

His expression sobers. "Yeah."

"You think they'll come back?"

"Yes."