"We'll call it Mark's house if it makes you feel better." Kira never had been big on taking care of himself, but his possessions were a different story. Maybe it was that simplest difference between them, that he had to save for things, that his parents didn't always have the means to replace phones or nice jeans, and he'd not been much better off after moving out.

Hopefully the payouts for locking everyone in a faction-torn shell of Manhattan in the middle of winter paid off some of his "I'm dying young anyway" debt, not that it's his problem anymore.

Here, the problem is intensified. Every resources is somewhat precious, and he has little to distract him that isn't sweeping and tidying the house around Mark's plants. The candle left in the window to help them home bears replacing, but Kira finds himself staring at the guttering flame instead, drunk and feeling his way through the moment. Feet hurt; hands remember the shape of his shoes. They make a series of thuds rolling down the steps to the floor. "Mark, if you haven't met him, is the plant scientist who is like everyone's favorite down to earth teacher in high school."

Which isn't, for Kira, the reason Ty shouldn't jump to conclusions about them living together, but might assuage the way Ty always seems to care about things like that.