"Sometimes. I lived in Central America and thought that Colombian coffee was the best. The real stuff, not what they sell in America in cans." He accepts the idle conversation, his travels really being useful for this.

"I like a lot of different teas, too. I wish I had access to half the supplies I wanted. I'd make sure people could try all kinds of food that I've gotten the chance for. When I was in Somalia I learned to make the flatbread that lets you scoop up food in handfuls." He makes motions with his hands, indicating what he means.

Things that he did in wartorn lands that didn't involve shooting.

When they get closer to his apartment, he can already guess that he won't be judged by Tetora. It's a bland place he opens the door too, clinically white walls with the occasional furniture scuff, a kitchen table lined with Kaz's paperwork, a bookcase not even half filled, and two dogs. Both look up. One is a beige husky who warbles happy husky noises as she happily lopes over to her owner, and the other is a wolf-dog with one eye and an eyepatch.

An actual eyepatch.