Mara was already stationed at the counter when Vane and Valerica finally came downstairs.
She had the eighth version currently brewing. The second steep had been extended by exactly thirty seconds, and she was tracking the time against the ticking kitchen clock with the fierce, unbroken attention she reserved for things she had absolutely decided to conquer. She didn't even glance up as they entered the room; she simply watched the second hand sweep past the twelve.
As Valerica took her seat at the heavy wooden table, Mara slid the ceramic cup across the wood without an ounce of ceremony. Valerica wrapped both hands around it, grounding herself in the warmth, testing the specific weight and the exact temperature against her palms just as she had the day before.
She took a slow sip.
Mara finally turned, her eyes fixed on Valerica's face.
"Better," Valerica breathed, a genuine softness bleeding into her voice.
