You want it darker. We ground the bean.

"Did not think we would score something this am-ah-zing today. Sacks of it." Jorrel opens cupboards and closets. "Bunch of other stuff too. But, you know, hecking coffee! We're going to fund the expedition on this haul alone… if these guys will let us take it."

A spider bot is… eyeing Jorrel suspiciously? Maybe. Hard to tell with these things. After one of them **** itself on Jorrel, the whole gang seems to have turned a leaf, none of them even attempting the same with you. In fact, if you’ve got to be honest, sparks of jealousy keep popping up in you. Every time they do though, they’re immediately replaced by an aww noise, as Jorrel’s new fanbase constantly invent new ways to win his attention. It’s like a tiny circus of coffee-bots. All clamouring for attention so that they might be blessed with a chance to serve coffee for Jorrel.

“I’ll pack up here and take the coffee to base camp. You go check on the others.”

Almost out the door, Jorrel goes, "Wait! Could you..." He sets the flash-light on a nearby table. Jorrel looks thoughtful for a moment, before swiping a bot off the counter, then jumping up and sitting on it. His cult gathers beneath his feet, raising and waving their spider legs in a bid for his attention. "Thank you," he says, clearly struggling, "it's- you know, hard."

Here you go again. You're this weird receptacle of other people's misery and worries, always have been. For some reason they seem to trust you with their thoughts and feelings. Maybe they can sense you've got plenty of space for more shit on the ever growing crap-pile that is your mental state? You should probably tell him you're not a good listener. That you're in no place to give advice or remotely someone you should think of as capable.

Instead you say, "Take your time. I know." Dammit. Propping a three-legged chair against the wall closest to Jorrel, you lean against it. You're close enough that, if he wanted to, he could rest his legs on yours. He could, if he wanted to, run a hand through your hair. "Anything I can do?"

Breathing deeply and steeling himself, Jorrel replies, "No, no. Just have to man up and ask." He gently kicks your knee, his legs swinging off the counter, and runs his hands through his own hair. Finally, he asks, "Do you think Emalie and I fight too much?"

Woof. Okay. Sure. You giving relationship advice. This is going to end in triple homicide and two graves.

"I don't know. What does Emalie think?"

"Haven't asked her, but I'm pretty sure that'd end in a fight, too." Jorrel wears the face of someone **** to hug their great grandmother goodbye at her funeral. "She tells me to get my shit together, you know. Our expedition is my responsibility. If I fuck up and get one of us killed, that's on me. Or worse, we return after one terrifying night like cowards. We're going on this journey and - I don't know - It feels like she doesn't trust me to make sure things go smoothly."

You sit in silence for a moment. "That's not your responsibility."

"What do you mean?"

Every fiber in your being tells you to back pedal, to get out of the conversation before you say something stupid and Jorrel starts actually kicking you. Your instinct tells you that Jorrel is an unquestionable leader of your gang. Any sort of challenge to that means a swift **** at the social kill squad. Your instinct also tells you not to go diving in old ruins. You're not that great at listening to your instinct.

"You're sort of the de-facto leader of our group - I guess - not to pressure you or anything. I get it. I really do. You're amazing by the way, great job. So, I'm not saying you're bad at it. What I'm saying is..." Deep breaths, you tell yourself. Don’t look at him. Say what you need to say. "I'm saying that we're all in this together. I get why Emalie wants you to step up and I do think it's unfair to assume she holds you, solely, responsible."

“There’s a but coming, isn’t there?” Jorrel interrupts.

“Buuuut…” You breathe through clenched teeth, “Of the four of us, you’re the only one who seems to represent the group as a whole. First here, in town, and soon who ever we’ll encounter out there – in the world.”

“I think I get what you’re trying to say.” Jorrel looks at the congregation of admirers below him. “And you’re right. Both you and Em. I could sense something was bothering him and instead of talking to him, I just assumed he’d come to me. A good leader cares for people, even if that means you have to seek out a conflict.”

“I’d prefer to avoid it, but…”

Jorrel finishes your sentence, “Conflict makes us stronger. Not in the solution, but in the way, we solve it.”

"It's true. We're all in this together." You almost reach a hand to put on his thigh. A sort of universally pre-programmed gesture of it's going to be alright, I'm with you. With a little effort, you manage to tap a rhythm using the tip of your fingers, cleverly avoiding doing anything that can be misinterpreted. "Whether you argue too much - I don't know - I think couples argue the amount they need to. My parents do it all the time. I think that's how you love. Without conflict you're not really two people trying to get along."

"I can see that. Still, feels like it shouldn't be that complicated, should it?"

"What do I know? The furthest I’ve ever gotten is holding hand."

"Huh..." Musing, Jorrel chuckles and shakes his head before declaring, "Time to man up. No more of this emotion garble! I'll start hauling stuff back to base camp and you go check on the other."

Just before you make it out the door, Jorrel adds, "And I'm not telling you that because I think you're stupid. I just need to say this stuff out loud - thank you for understanding. And... Thank you for listening. I really appreciate that you always manage to make time for that, despite everything."

Your cheeks start burning again as you dip out the door with an awkward thumbs up. Walking back down the passage, you can hear the sound of Jorrel dragging stuff around and bots beeping happily.