Noah stepped back a half pace so the line between stove and table would stay clear. He watched without letting his gaze harden. He didn't feel triumph. He didn't feel regret. It was a task to complete cleanly so the next task could begin.
"Perimeter?" Sera asked into the room, voice low, easy.
"Clean," Noah answered. "Wind shifting."
Her eyes touched his face for a fraction and moved on.
Nothing there to keep looking at, his face was completely void of emotions.
She trusted Zubair to keep them safe more than she trusted anyone else. She didn't need anything from Noah she hadn't already taken—news, weight carried, small repairs done without being taught. He had never asked for more.
Zubair placed cups at each seat. "Two hours of fuel if the storm holds. We go out early if we go at all."
"We'll go," Lachlan grinned, already halfway to a plan the rest of them would edit.
