It was almost as cold in here as it was outside, the heating in this building apparently as up-to-date as the rest of it.
Laurie hadn't made any move to shed my coat, and no wonder. It was probably the only really warm thing in this apartment, including the couple of thin blankets draped over his bed.
I'd need to open the coat to get to his neck. It felt like stripping him of his armor, like making him even more vulnerable — to the elements, to me. It felt wrong.
He walked over to the little kitchenette, worming one hand out of the coat to fidget with the few things on the square of countertop. A spoon, maybe left over from a hot drink he'd made earlier. A packet of sugar like you'd find at a diner. A folded paper towel.
"Do you want something to drink?" he asked abruptly, the words cracking the silence like a heavy boot on ice. And then he shook his head and laughed. "I mean, something other than me."
