“Oh,” Victoria said to Illyad’s explanation.
She watched him pour the tea, then took the mug with a soft, “Thanks,” directed to both him and Alex. She sat the phone on a drawer chest with multiple small drawers beside her, a line of opaque canisters with wooden spoons situated on its top. She gripped the mug in both hands, letting the heat of the steaming liquid inside warm her palms.
	“If I don’t get a chance to get a new one, though,” she began, looking into the liquid’s pleasant shade of light gold, “we’ll need some way of contacting you, won’t we?”
	[i]We.[/i] It felt odd using that plural now to included supernaturals.