Blinking rapidly, the air in his lungs stuttered, his vision blurring for a brief moment. He coughed, shaking his head, a perfunctory, juddering movement, his voice thick with rust as he answered her with a simple, "No."

He knew that she would drink the coffee black without complaint, but he reached for a packet of sugar, tearing it open and dumping its contents into her cup with deceptively steady hands.

Clearing his throat, he said, "You'll have somewhere to live. Credits to buy food. This happens often enough that they have a system in place."