For a moment, there's silence, only her picking up the cup to let it warm her hands. Breathing in the familiar scent. Trying a sip, to let it unlock her throat and make its way past the lump in the way.

"Angel was seen boarding the ferry."

It's hushed, unable to be said louder. Saying it aloud makes it more real, as if he's going to just show up again. Here in this apartment is where they cut his hair, giving him proof of his own identity. The memories exist everywhere.

"There wasn't a note."

It happened. It could happen to any of them. It has happened to many other souls. She's lost friends, allies. So why this time does it feel this way?