Number Five is perched near the flames, his clothes are mostly dry now, and the coffee in his mug nearly drained. He’ll have to get another cup soon, but… he’s people-watching at the moment. There are plenty of them bustling all about, some people still trickling in, some getting wounds tended to, others still eating or drinking.

But it’s the quiet guy who’s all but fully isolated himself in a corner that catches Five’s attention at the moment. He’s a little twitchy, even if it’s in a subtle way most people might miss, Five can see it. He feels the same itch under his own skin, so maybe it’s a matter of like knowing like.

He gets up from the chair he’s been sitting in and wanders off to fill up his mug with another round of coffee, and grabs a second cup that he uses as a peace offering of sorts when he approaches the guy, “Coffee,” he explains, holding it out to him. “Not the best, but it does the trick.”