“Done. Miles.” Nell shifted again as her brother walked in. “Taste this.” He shook his head, looked at Morgan. “Black coffee. Did you shift to days?” “Root canal,” Nell began, “sick kid, finals. She’s pulling a double. One taste.” “Jesus.” He took a quick glug, then looked sincerely baffled. “Flowered coffee? Why?” “Miles is a coffee purist. It’s not coffee unless it’s black.” “Then this should fill the bill.”
