33 Apocalypse Ave, Tuesday Morning

Ronan sat at the kitchen table, his hands around his coffee mug -- he wasn't drinking out of it, not more than the occasional, absent sip, so much as trying to absorb the warmth through the mug.

It wasn't working; his heart? Still kinda chilled. Whatever was going on in the multiverse had him shaken to the core.

[Up late because I am made of fail; expecting a couple, but otherwise open!]w