Matt’s more tired than he thought, because he doesn’t consciously notice her approach until she speaks, and he starts, turning his head in her direction, his gaze not really meeting hers. The mug, however, he has no trouble finding, homing in on heat and that familiar scent of coffee, reaching out to take it with his good arm. “I’ve been better,” he answers wryly, almost managing a polite smile. “Had worse too. I take it the supplies made it back all right?”

Otherwise this would be another round of steeped pine needles, he’s pretty sure. He forces himself to take small sips, both to avoid burning his tongue and to keep the precious drink lasting longer.