The coffee at Asteroid M was actually the nectar of the gods. It was a conviction I had held since I first started coming to the small café years ago, back when I had stumbled onto it in the wee hours of the morning on my way home from a crime scene investigation that had lasted all night. The place was really no more than a hole in the wall, a glorified broom closet with chrome-topped tables and the framed covers of pulp fiction novels decorating the walls. A poster of Fritz Lang's Metropolis hung in a place of honor over the register and the counter gleamed dully in the low industrial light. I loved the place inside and out, but most of the people I brought there glanced around nervously but eventually agreed that the coffee made up for "the atmosphere", as Moira called it. For my part I felt at home in the somewhat sterile, futuristic environment- it was so far removed from the old Victorian brownstones and cobbled side streets that it almost felt like being on a different planet. I had spent a lot of time there while I was getting divorced, escaping from Magda and the lawyers inside endless cups of coffee and pastrami sandwiches.

I didn't mention any of this to Charles as we walked into Asteroid M, the bell on the door letting out a loud 'ding' as we pushed it open. His eyes swept around the cafe, taking in the metallic décor.

"I've never actually been in here before. I've walked past plenty of times, but I've never come in."

"That is a literal tragedy." I steered him towards a booth near the back of the room. "You haven't lived until you've tried this place's coffee."

"I assure you I've done a good amount of living, Erik." He raised an eyebrow as he slid onto the seat, the vinyl creaking stiffly. "And also I prefer tea."

I frowned at him over the top of the laminated menu. "How very British of you."

"I'll have you know I was born in this country."

"Explain the accent, then."

He smiled. "My parents are from England. I didn't get out of the house much when I was small, especially after my father died, and the only other people I had contact with were nannies and butlers. I had always just thought that Raven had a funny voice. You can imagine my surprise when I started school and realized that everyone sounded like her but me."

"You must have had quite the culture shock."

He laughed lightly, a stark contrast to the sarcasm that was all I had heard from him since I returned. "I think I made a very odd first impression on my schoolmates."

Just then the waitress came over, a young woman I didn't recognize, her puffy skirt looking like a bubble around her hips. She was chewing open-mouthed on a wad of faded pink gum and fiddling with her pen and pad, flipping her bleached blonde hair unconsciously as she twitched her head. She clearly didn't appreciate being made to work at seven AM; in my experience, it was always the early and late shift waitresses that were the surliest. "What are ya havin'?" She drawled monotonously. Charles squinted at his menu.

I reached across the table and pointed to an item on the shiny plastic-coated sheet. "Try the hash browns."

He shot me a frustrated glare before looking to the waitress, his irritated expression replaced with a sweet smile on those delicate lips and his blue eyes wide and innocent. "I'll have the Eggs Benedict, Allison." He said, gaze flicking down to her plastic nametag before meeting her eyes again, turning on the full force of his charm. "And a cup of Earl Grey tea on the side if you have it, love."

The waitress tittered, fluttering her heavily made-up eyelashes at him as she scribbled down his order. "Of course, hon, no problem." She glanced at me with considerably less affection than she had been showing Charles; I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "And for you?"

"Rye toast with a side of hash browns. Coffee, black." I watched her coolly from under the brim of my hat. "No sugar."

Allison snorted. "Of course. Anything else for you boys?"

"That'll be all."

She nodded and swiveled on her heel, taking a moment to wink at Charles flirtatiously over her shoulder before heading to the counter. He smiled at her, caught sight of my face, and laughed.

"Jealous, Erik?"

I flashed him a toothy grin. "If she'd just sway her hips right back into the kitchen I would be more than happy."

"Temper, temper." His foot bumped against mine under the table. If I had any doubts about its' intentions, they were washed away when the toe of his shoe brushed against my ankle, pushing up the leg of my pants. I shifted closer to Charles under the table, slouching in my seat a little until our knees were touching. "You of all people should know I'm not exactly inclined towards broads."

"So you say." I smirked. "I'd like a little more proof."

"Like you haven't had enough."

"I think I could stand to have a refresher course."

The heavy presence of Charles' knee and foot moved suddenly and I was left sprawled low and awkward across the booth as Charles crossed his legs on his lap, grinning wryly. "Maybe later."

I groaned in annoyance. "You're killing me,"

"Get used to it. I still haven't decided whether I want to punch you or kiss you." He gave Allison a cheerfully fake smile as she came back with our drinks, setting the two steaming mis-matched mugs on the formica in front of us. "Thanks, dear."

I shook my head, exasperated, and took a sip of my coffee. It wasn't quite scalding but it was still hot, and I sipped it cautiously, not wanting to burn my tongue and spoil my taste buds for the flavor once it had cooled. Even with the scorch of the heated liquid I could still recognize the dark, bitter roast of the finely ground beans, the different layers of the drink emerging the longer I held it in my mouth. My saliva glands kicked into gear big-time.

Across from me, Charles was stirring his tea and watching as I drank greedily. Compared to the heady black inside my cup his Earl Gray looked anemic, the cloud of white milk melting in as he poured it from a small, chipped, plastic pitcher. He eyed my coffee.

"I haven't lived until I've tried this coffee, huh?"

I nodded. "It's the truth. I'll swear by it."

Charles took a gulp of his tea, grimaced, and set it by his side. "I don't think those tea bags were very fresh. Or at the very least they've been kept under a sink."

"Nobody comes here for the tea, Charles. It's all about the beans." I tapped the side of my mug. He frowned, then reached over and grabbed it out of my hands.

"Fine, I'll try it. Just know that if I get poisoned by this then it's your fault."

"I will accept full blame." I raised my hands in surrender. Allison sauntered over suggestively, saw that Charles was otherwise occupied, and set the plates down with a clatter before glaring at me and hustling away. I buttered my toast with only half attention, the other half firmly focused on staring at Charles as he sipped experimentally at the coffee. His eyes widened as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing unsteadily, and I had to work hard to stifle a chuckle.

"Oh my God." He coughed. "I take back everything I said. My entire life is a lie." He took another swig, his eyes fluttering closed and his head falling back with a loud moan. "Does all coffee taste like this? Have I spent my life in service to the wrong beverage God?"

"No, this stuff is special." I laughed. The café seemed brighter, the walls reflecting the grey light from outside the windows and amplifying it. Or maybe that was just the natural effect Charles had on a room, I wouldn't put it past him. "Tea is still sacred, I wouldn't bring you all the way here just to crush your life view."

"Thank you for that." He suddenly seemed to notice the food in front of him and he spun the wobbly plate around, getting a good look at it. "I think this is the most food I've seen in one place in months."

I rook a bite of dry toast, raising my eyebrows. "What have you been living on?"

He shrugged, cutting his eggs into neat pieces with his knife and fork held in the proper posh manner. "Cheap whiskey, apples, and saltine crackers. The occasional sandwich, when I can afford to eat at a restaurant." He caught my expression. "Photojournalism doesn't pay very much. Or very regularly. I make do."

"Where are you living?"

"I mostly stay at friend's houses. Moira's been a doll; I spend a lot of my time at her place, but I don't want to seem like too much of a moocher so I'll stay at Alex's every once in a while. If I've eaten recently and I have some green leftover I'll get a hotel room for a few nights. I've managed to sweet talk one of the guys who buys my photos over at the Enquirer to let me sleep in their office sometimes." He waved a hand dismissively, stealing a hash brown off the side of my plate. "Wherever's warm and indoors. Or one of the two."

"Jesus, Charles," I mumbled around a fragment of bread, "That's horrible." His words brought back memories of my childhood, of my mother and I huddled into tiny converted basements in cramped tenement buildings, of her broken English as she tried to negotiate with the landlords who were actually crime lords. Remembering the clawing pain of starvation tearing at my stomach, the kids moving away suspiciously when they caught sight of me approaching in my torn, second-hand clothes, my hungry eyes watching longingly as they ate their lunches in the classroom while I sat and stared at my hands. That was no sort of a life, not for my mamma and me and certainly not for Charles.

The fork scraped against the plate as Charles speared another chunk of egg. "I've been trying to save up to find somewhere to live. And food is just… less important." He looked up, a frown on his face. "This is what I've chosen, Erik."

"That's not what Moira said."

He set his knife down with a rattle. "Sometimes I wish she talked a little less."

"That's no way to speak about your friend. And anyway, you were forced out of the company. Marko threw you out of your home, your family. It doesn't sound to me like you had any choice in the matter at all. You didn't deserve that. You should have a better life than this."

I moved to lay my hand over his but he flinched, shying away from my touch. "Please don't, Erik. Please, I…" He gazed at me helplessly, pleadingly. "Can't you just leave me be?"

I had a feeling that we weren't only talking about Charles' circumstances anymore, but I nodded and pulled my arm back, shoving my hands in my pockets. My plate was empty save for crumbs but Charles had over half of his meal still uneaten. I watched him as he ate, slow and silent, like he was memorizing every bite. He probably was, cataloguing the different tastes and filing them away for one of the cold nights curled on someone's couch, his stomach growling and empty. Behind the counter Allison the waitress popped her gum noisily, flipping through a lavender paperback romance novel and singing under her breath. The bright light that had seemed so illuminating a few minutes ago had turned blinding, the glare from the walls shining into my eyes and blowing out my sight.

Charles ate and I watched, and when he finished I left a handful of crisp dollar bills on the tabletop and he said nothing, leaving Asteroid M as I trailed after him.