They camped just off the highway — inside the shell of a once–fancy rooftop lounge.
no walls left
just cracked marble flooring
and a metal railing bent in half.
the view was insane — the city below looked like a dark ocean with broken silver shards.
Kai started a small flame using a torch canister and a metal bowl.
Nox opened cans.
actual cans.
canned lentils
canned fruit
canned instant beef stew
it looked like treasure.
Jace walked over to Alva with two metal cups.
"you haven't eaten," he said, voice neutral, almost too careful.
Alva took one cup slowly — the steam rising smelled… shocking.
food.
warm.
normal.
Kai sat cross–legged on the floor and used the lid of a crate as a table.
he nudged her ankle lightly with his boot.
"sit," he said, like it wasn't even a question.
she did.
they ate.
no one talked at first.
food in apocalypse wasn't casual.
people ate with silence like they didn't want to break the moment.
Kai swallowed, leaned back on his arms, and flicked his eyes at her.
"how long has it been since you ate something hot?"
Alva chewed slowly, considering the question literally.
"…maybe two days."
Kai snorted.
"two days is a polite lie. you look like you've been running on pure spite and lightning."
Alva paused — spoon halfway up.
"is that a complaint?"
Kai: "no. that's… impressive fuel choice."
Nox laughed lightly from the other side of the crate.
Jace looked between them — expression unreadable — but clearly watching.
Alva felt it.
that shift.
before the vault — she was an anomaly.
now — she was a fact.
Kai sensed the mood and spoke softer — almost bored on purpose.
"don't stare at her like she's a goddess. she doesn't like pedestals."
Jace raised an eyebrow.
"what does she like?"
Kai answered way too fast:
"control."
Alva shot him a look — sharp.
Kai grinned at her like he enjoyed stepping exactly on the thin line between teasing and truth.
Nox interrupted gently.
"when the convoy stops for fuel tomorrow — I'll show you the resonance markers near the base."
Arden nodded.
"the base is three hours out. if we reach before sunset — we'll be safe."
Alva finished the last spoon of stew — warmth spreading through her chest in a human way that her powers couldn't mimic.
she exhaled.
quiet.
grounded.
for a moment
she just felt like a girl eating stew on cracked marble under a ruined sky.
Kai leaned closer — voice low — not flirty
just honest:
"rest. tomorrow your head needs to be sharp."
Alva looked at him fully this time.
"yours too."
Kai pretended to look offended.
"mine stays sharp. it's the personality that's defective."
Alva actually smiled.
small.
real.
Nox saw it — and didn't comment.
Jace saw it — and looked away.
Arden saw it — and mentally filed it under "potential tactical leverage".
the night settled.
and for one brief, fragile hour — they were something terrifyingly normal:
people.
who survived.
and shared a meal.