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“Hey.” I give an awkward little wave. “What’s up?”

He raises the brown bag. “The boys and I got a lucky requisition, and I figured you might want to share.”

“Depends on how lucky we’re talking.” I eye the bag, silently hoping for chocolate or something with caramel or even pears. Hell, I’d take a grapefruit at this point if it means I get fresh citrus.

“Where’s the kitchen?” he asks.

“This way.” I lead him down the hall. “Welcome to the Washington Suite. It’s for fancy folk only, so please mind your manners.”

He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” He puts the bag on the counter and reaches in. “Tada,” he says as he pulls out two bottles of beer, each label stamped with the outline of a naked lady giving a salute.

I raise a brow. “You brought me alcohol?”

He shrugs. “I thought you might like it, but if not—” He makes to put the bottle back in the bag.

“Don’t be hasty.” I reach out and grab it from him.

His smile reappears, a dimple showing up in his left cheek. “I figured you’d enjoy one. The brewery only has enough ingredients to make small batches. I can’t promise it’s as good as one from the old days, but it’s better than the homemade swill you can get around these parts.”

“I won’t look a gift beer in the hops.” I dig around in the drawers and find a bottle opener.

“Allow me.” He takes it from me, our hands brushing for a moment. Then he opens both bottles.

“To science.” He holds his up.

I clink mine to it, then we both take a swig. Hoppy, maybe a bit more bitter than what I used to drink before the plague, but damn, it’s not bad at all. “Nice.” I smack my lips.

“Agreed.” He takes another swig and loops his finger around the bottleneck in that particularly masculine way. “Now tell me how I get to live in digs like this. Did I miss out when I got my degree in IT and went to Officer Candidate School or what? I guess I should’ve been a doctor.” He sighs.

“No, you should just have a sibling who’s president. Easy as pie.” I take another swig, enjoying how oddly normal this seems. Just having a beer with a friend. But is he really a friend? I guess he’s more like a spy, but he’s helping Juno. He’s on our side.

“I’ll have to work on that.”

I realize I know nothing about him. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve learned Aang has a boyfriend just outside of San Francisco, Gretchen misses her pet cat Artemis, Evie can twirl a fire baton and left a bevy of men and women longing for her when she left Johns Hopkins, and Wyatt plays guitar—badly. But I haven’t gotten to know Gage. Of course, I didtryto get to know my Secret Service agent: attempt DOA.

“Where are you from?” I ask.

“Oh, a small town in Alabama. Nowhere you’d know.”

“I knew you had a twang to your voice. I was thinking maybe Florida man.”

His eyebrows scrunch. “Shots fired. I could only dream of making headlines as ‘Florida man.’ No, I do stupid things just fine without adding that to my resume.”

I drink more and watch him, a lot of questions flitting through my mind as he watches me right back. “So why do I get the honor of the special beer?”

“I just figured I should get in good with the person who invents the cure, that’s all. Maybe I’ll get fame by association.” He finishes his bottle.

I don’t believe him for a second, but I don’t feel like calling him a liar either. It’s nice to have someone else in my apartment with me, someone who doesn’t make my stomach tight or my face flush the way Valen does. This—standing here and sharing a beer with Gage—seems almost easy compared to the minefield Valen has come to represent.

“All right.” He searches around my cabinets. “I’ve got to go check in at the barracks.”

“Beside the sink.” I point.

He pulls open the trash. “Rich people always hide their trash. That’s right.” He drops his bottle in, then moves closer, standing just askance and looking down at me. “If you’re interested in the brewery, check the label before you throw it away. See you tomorrow, Doc.” He keeps going, and I follow him to the hall.

I don’t look at the label right away. Not when I suspect it bears a secret message I’m meant to deliver to Valen. For the slightest moment, I’m a bit disappointed that Gage is here for work, not to actually share a beer with me. But I bat that vapid thought away. Of course he’s here doing his job. “Thanks again for the beer.”

“Sure thing.” He runs a hand through his copper hair and hits the elevator button. “Hope we can do it again soon.”