Alfred ordered a glass of coffee from the woman behind the counter. Cups were a luxury now. They served everything in wine glasses.
He took his drink into the side room — quiet, empty. Almost.
There, Dr. Erdmann Warner sat on a crate with coffee of his own, also in a wine glass. Alfred sat a short distance away.
"Hey, soldier," Erdmann said after a moment. "Mind if if i ask you something?"
"Sure." Alfred said.
"You know that mission is a death sentence, right?" erdmann asked. "Why walk straight into death? You think it'll blink first?"
Alfred stared into the dark liquid. "We're all going to die someday."
"Sure. But you're running toward it."
"Yeah. I am." He took a slow sip of his coffee. "I've met death before. He left empty-handed."
Erdmann leaned over, pulled a half-empty wine bottle from behind his seat, and poured the last of it into his coffee.
"Apocalypse blend," he muttered. He stood to leave.
At the door, he paused. "Good luck out there."
He gave a faint smile — more tired than amused.
"May you be the last of us."