“Yeah,” he answers, voice coming out in a rough rasp. Kaz accepts the mug when it’s offered and leans his hip against the counter. It takes some weight off his leg. “So who are you?”

It occurs to him that accepting coffee from someone in a place like this may lead to another bout of unconsciousness. He thinks of the file with all his information and the fact that this is government housing. He’s starting to wonder if being knocked out and transported somewhere is how all governments start negotiations with criminals.

At least this time it hadn’t involved a drugged up tidemaker... that he knows of.