She went the next morning, before the compound's day had fully started, finding Kira already up, already at the range with the particular tea she made when she wanted to think rather than when she wanted to relax — a distinction Sera had learned to read in her over the years, the angle of the kettle, the amount of attention given to the steeping.
"I need to talk to you," Sera said, sitting at the island. "Properly. Not in passing."
Kira looked at her for a long moment — the assessment, quick and thorough, the specific reading that didn't require any gift, just years of paying close attention to the people she loved.
"You look like you haven't slept," Kira said.
"I haven't, much. Not well, anyway. Three weeks of a dream I haven't told you about."
Kira set down the kettle and came to si
