The butter made it halfway around the table before Felicity realized every man in Snow Team would rather eat his toast dry than ask her to pass it. There were fourteen of them, including a man who'd killed a zombie with a tire iron. Apparently, the truly frightening thing in this brewery was a woman who'd had sex upstairs.
She took the butter off Finch, scraped a generous curl onto her toast and passed it to the man on her left. "You might as well use it. I heard what you were doing with that toast last night, and frankly, the bread deserves better."
Tommy dropped his knife. Across the table, Voss put his coffee down so carefully that she knew exactly how close he'd come to spitting it. Then Finch laughed with his mouth full of eggs, and for ten blessed seconds breakfast sounded like a meal again.
Victor sat down beside her with a plate heaped high enough for two. She helped herself to the crisp edge of his fried egg and caught his eye. "Did you know where that vent went before you took me upstairs?"
"I used to shout my coffee order down it." He set his fork on the plate. "I wanted Voss to hear you ask him to stay. Once you did, I quit giving a damn what anybody else could hear. I should've told you."
She had expected a joke about her ears. It would've given her something easy to laugh off. Instead, her husband gave her an answer that cost him his appetite. She let herself taste the egg while she worked out the part that bothered her. "I had a good time last night. I just want to be the one who decides where the invitations stop."
He tore his toast in half. "I'll show you the vents next time I show you the bed." She took the half he offered. That was a promise she could hold him to, although the thought of him giving her a tour in his underwear had a certain appeal.
Rose came in with dust in the stripes on her forearms and her eye on the last clean chair. "I went to sleep in a mercenary compound and woke up in a monastery. Has somebody taken a vow I should know about?"
Felicity liked her, which was probably why she answered. "If anybody here has taken a vow, I'd start by checking whether there's a hole in the ceiling directly above his bed."
A few men grinned into their cups. Rose spread butter and jam all the way out to the crust. "Give me a little warning next time, would you? I'd like to prepare for being the least interesting woman in the room."
Voss got up with his cup. For a horrible instant Felicity thought he was embarrassed to be seen beside her now that the sun was up. Then Rose called his name, looking for another laugh, and Voss took his cup straight to the sink without so much as turning his head. He'd left Rose standing there with a joke she couldn't finish by herself.
Finch slid the jam closer. Rose finished her bread, wiped the knife clean and went back out to the loading dock. Felicity scraped the same patch of butter back and forth until she put a hole in her toast. She'd been getting hungry enough to lick the pan a minute ago.
"I wish she hadn't said that," she admitted. Victor shifted on the bench and put a wing between her and the longer table. He left the end open toward the sink. She could still see Voss with his hands in the water, washing a perfectly clean cup.
"Want me to talk to her?" Victor asked. He had jam on his thumb, and he looked ready to conduct serious business with it there until she caught his hand and wiped it off.
"I'll talk to her when I know what I want to say. Could you do something about the people who might actually welcome your help? That poor man has been trying to cut a sausage with the back of his knife since I sat down."
Victor took the hint and asked for the night's report. The men found themselves with something to discuss besides her sex life, which was a considerable relief to everyone, the sausage included. Felicity took her plate to the sink.
Voss made room for her there. "For the record, I liked getting invited. I've skipped a lot of breakfasts for a lot less than that. I wasn't going to let you come down to this one by yourself."
"Then why are you up to your elbows in dishwater?" she asked. He looked down as though he'd only just discovered what his hands were doing. The corners of his mouth pulled up. She'd wanted that smile all morning.
"I couldn't tell if you'd want me to sit beside you where everybody could see. I was hoping you'd tell me." It had never occurred to her that the man who could place an entire patrol with two fingers needed directions to a bench.
"Tomorrow you can ask if the seat's taken. I expect I'll still be able to speak by then." She reached to take the dishcloth from him and smelled the old blood in the cuff of her borrowed shirt. All the washing of hands in the world wasn't going to help that thing.
Voss sniffed his own sleeve and took half a step away from it before he remembered he was wearing it. "I've got something out in the yard that might improve both our chances of getting a seat tomorrow. Victor helped me fill it before breakfast."
Through the open door, she saw steam from the copper tub that had stood empty behind the brewery. A folded blanket hung from a line beside it. It took her a second to recognize the one she'd taken from his hand last night. Voss reached past her for the door, then left the handle to her. This time Felicity opened it.