"Yeah. I figured." Grey hair, all that. York swallows and rolls his shoulders, Delta flickering into absence and settling into a hum in the back of his mind. Something like soothing, something like a secure buffer between him and the world. Coffee. Somewhere to sit. He can do these things without freaking out.

Does these things without freaking out.

"How long is 'a few' because...I'm thinking more rather than less, bud."