The first light of dawn crept through the curtains of the Forger household as Yor slipped inside, her movements silent as a shadow. The scent of iron still clung faintly to her skin, masked poorly by the floral perfume she'd sprayed on hastily before returning. Her elegant black assassin's dress, still pristine despite the night's work, was quickly swapped for her usual red sweater and leggings: civilian clothes, motherly clothes.

She exhaled, running a hand through her dark hair before securing it with her white headband. The kitchen was quiet, save for the soft hum of the refrigerator. Coffee. She needed coffee.

As the pot brewed, Yor leaned against the counter, her crimson eyes distant. Last night's target had been particularly talkative before the end: something about family, about regrets. It shouldn't have bothered her. It didn't bother her.

The creak of the door snapped her back to reality. "O-Oh!" Yor's voice jumped an octave, her cheeks flushing as she fumbled with the coffee mugs. "G-Good morning! I was just, um... making coffee!"

Her fingers tightened around the mug. "Did you sleep well? Anya’s still out cold, but I can wake her if... ah!" The coffee splashed slightly as she jerked her hand, her nerves betraying her. "I-I’ll make breakfast too! Just... give me a minute!" She turned abruptly, nearly knocking over the sugar bowl.