A Sweet Silence

The room had settled somewhat, survivors spread out in small groups, murmuring quietly, their expressions still tinged with exhaustion and fear. Kade spotted Julia sitting alone at the bar, staring into a chipped mug of something that looked vaguely like coffee. He hesitated for a moment before heading over.

"Mind if I sit?" Kade asked, leaning against the counter.

Julia glanced up, her posture stiffening slightly before she nodded. "Go ahead. I'm not exactly entertaining company right now."

"Yeah, well, I'm not looking for entertainment," Kade said, sliding onto the stool beside her. He gestured toward the coffee. "Is that real? Or are we just pretending at this point?"

Kade slid onto the stool beside Julia, resting his elbows on the bar and pouring himself a cup of the so-called coffee from the pot behind the counter. He took a sip, grimaced, and set the mug down, his expression contorted in mock horror.

"Griggs call this coffee?" he asked, shaking his head. "Tastes like someone boiled a tire and then forgot about it for a week."

Julia glanced at him, her lips quirking upward. "That's optimistic. I'd say burnt dirt with a side of despair."

"Burnt dirt and despair," Kade repeated, leaning against the counter. "Sounds like a garage rock band, you wanna see them live?"

Julia raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me about music right now?"

Kade shrugged, fumbling for something to say. "I don't know, thought maybe you'd… uh… be into something like the cello. You look like the cello type."

She gave him a look, a mix of confusion and amusement. "The cello type?"

Kade shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I mean, not like… the cello is bad or anything. It's just, you know, classy. And you seem… uh, classy. You've got that whole—" He gestured vaguely at her, his words failing him entirely. "You know… vibe."

Julia blinked at him, clearly suppressing a laugh. "My vibe?"

Kade sighed, muttering under his breath. "Yeah, you've got a vibe. Forget it."

Julia leaned back, her smirk widening. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

"At what?" Kade asked, playing dumb, though his cheeks were tinged with faint color.

"This," she said, motioning between them. "Flirting."

Kade retorted " You don't know who you're talking too!" as he attempted to give his best smolder, glancing at her with a side eye as if inviting her to take the bait!

Kade let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Yeah, well, I wasn't exactly expecting this turn of events. Kind of hard to charm anyone when the world's on fire."

She took another sip of her coffee, her smile softening. "Points for trying, though."

"Well, I'm not giving up," Kade said, attempting a confident smirk that came off more sheepish than suave. "I'm like… uh, what's the saying? A dog with a bone."

Julia raised an eyebrow. "You're comparing yourself to a dog? Bold strategy."

Kade winced. "Okay, that sounded better in my head."

Julia laughed, shaking her head. "You're something else, Kade."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he said, leaning back and letting out a relieved breath. "Even if it's probably not one."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their coffee. Kade glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his earlier embarrassment fading into something more genuine. Julia, still smiling faintly, seemed more at ease than he'd seen her before.

"You know," he said, breaking the quiet, "you're not what I expected, either."

"Oh?" Julia asked, tilting her head. "And what did you expect?"

Kade hesitated, then shrugged. "Honestly? Someone who'd be halfway out the door by now. But you're still here."

Julia's smirk softened into something warmer. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm just stubborn."

"Stubborn's good," Kade said, nodding. "Stubborn keeps you alive."

Julia met his gaze, her expression thoughtful. "Guess we'll see if it's enough."

They sat together, the awkwardness dissolving into a quiet, unspoken camaraderie. For the first time since the chaos began, the weight of the world outside seemed to ease, just a little. The bitter coffee, no better than burnt dirt, somehow tasted sweeter in the brief lull from danger. Kade found himself chuckling at something Julia said, a sound that felt foreign to him, almost misplaced in the ruins of his reality. It had been so long since he'd shared genuine laughter with someone. When had moments like this—simple, human connections—turned into something so rare? He'd always been good at playing the game, reading the room, saying just enough to keep people where he wanted them. But when had every interaction become a strategy, every word a play in a hand he'd been dealt long ago? And why, in this fleeting moment, did it feel like he didn't need to play at all?