The scent of coffee and cinnamon drifted through the apartment.
Lois stood in the kitchen wearing one of Walter's shirts.
Not because she needed to.
Because it had somehow become hers.
Walter had accepted this months ago.
Mostly.
The shirt hung loosely around her knees.
One sleeve rolled halfway up her arm.
The sight distracted Walter every single time.
Which was becoming a problem.
A very specific problem.
One he had no interest in solving.
"You are staring."
Walter blinked.
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
Lois smiled without looking up from her coffee.
The woman had become annoyingly skilled at reading him.
Walter blamed experience.
Lois blamed his face.
Both were probably right.
Morning sunlight spilled through the apartment windows.
The city stretched beyond the
