Nash headed to the kitchen.
Zayela was at the stove, stirring a pan with quick flips, her back to him.
She wore her usual loose tank top and shorts, hair tied up in a messy knot.
She glanced over her shoulder, smirking.
"Look who finally came back to life. It's past one, you know."
Nash dropped into a chair, letting out a tired laugh.
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks to whom?"
Zayela slid a bowl of hot soup in front of him, steam curling up.
"Eat. You look like you got run over."
She wasn't necessarily wrong; he did get run over by a whole team of Breakball and some of his teammates.
He picked up the spoon and gave her a slight grin.
"Thanks, Zay. Smells good."
She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him take the first bite.
"You gonna be out late again?"
Nash paused mid-spoonful, looked up.
"Probably. Got some stuff to handle today."
Zayela's smirk softened a little.
She shifted her weight, eyes flicking away for a second.
