After the glorious, carb-filled breakfast that restored my will to live and nearly triggered Sir Alex into a full-on Berserker-Mode-Because-Why-Are-You-Looking-At-Other-Men's-Biceps, Viking politely suggested: "We can have tea in the war room for our discussions."
Tea.
TEA.
I smiled like a diplomat who just discovered a reason to start a rebellion. "I have something better than tea."
Coffi smirked at my side. Latte nodded with the confidence of a woman who knew chaos was about to happen. Chubby was finishing off his last slice of pizza, ignoring all political tension around him because pizza > diplomacy.
Raya—with her two heads—was eating cookies like a living anxiety support beast.
And of course, the "something better than tea" was…
Coffee—the elixir of sanity, courage, and my moral superiority.
