Jacob's impressed. He'd always assumed tea was a pretty universal thing but that's in his time. Malik comes from a place not only thousands of miles away but eight hundred years or so back in time. Coffee os always something he's thought of as American, but clearly it's got much older roots than that.


"I've heard there's lots of different types," he says, taking the mug gratefully and pleased that they seem not to be foghting. Milk goes in, and he hesitates before giving in a dumping in a spoon of sugar. Evie doesn't need to know and honestly he could do with the pick-me-up.

And it's a good thing he does add that sugar, because otherwise he would have taken a sip. And then spat it all put again when Malik apologised. He's not expecting it, not so hinestly, not in a way that makes it impossible to deny that the man really means it. But Jacob knows that he doesn't deserve it. Everything Malik has said, Jacob has deserved.

"I... thank you. But I think I needed the wake up call." He brings the cup to his lips and takes a small sip, feeling the warmth begin to chase some of the drunkenness away. "I didn't have any right to act like a prick. You had every right to tear me a new one."