“I smell that repugnant beverage you are so fond of, Athena.” The rumbling guttural growl from Fenrir. Her darkin companion often made his thoughts known to her, regardless of whether she actually wanted to hear them. He was beside her, loping along with the graceful strides of a wolf, though the soft padding of paws on the carpet you might expect from such an action was absent. He was deadly silent, as always.

“Coffee? I know. That’s where we’re heading.” She replied tiredly, rubbing at her eyes. It was far too early for her to be awake and not have a steaming cup of the bitter drink in her hand. She could go across the road to retrieve a more palatable version of the same beverage, but she couldn’t bring herself to wander outside.

Minutes later, she reached the bustling kitchens and wound her way past the familiar chefs towards the small, overused coffee machine in the back corner and began a pot brewing. Fen had vanished the moment she’d wandered into the kitchen and seen other people, but she still heard his raspy voice rumble in her ear, audible only to her. “Someone approaches.”

Athena shook her head, sighing. He always thought the worst of people... and was hopelessly paranoid. Ironic, given his appearance. Uly raised her voice to be audible to whoever was approaching. “Need a cup? I can make enough for two.”