39: Deva
Deva
Wrench’s face twisted with a barrage of emotions—fear, relief, confusion, and anger. His mouth flapped a few times before he pulled himself together.
He tried to play it cool. “Glad you could drop by.” His voice cracked, and he coughed before continuing. “Got some take-outs from the restaurant, if you want anything.” He waved a hand to his table, where a couple of containers and beakers sat next to his terminal.
“Could do with a drink.” She picked up one of the beakers, lifted the lid. “Cold coffee?”
He shrugged. “Reckoned if I got a hot one, I’d keep forgetting to drink, either have to reheat or drink it cold anyway. Easier like this. So, what’ve you been up to?” he asked as she took a sip.
There was too much sweetener for her, but the jolt of caffeine was welcome, a
