It was clear that the café waitstaff could sense something was off this morning. Cups of chilled coffee remained full, rather than being constantly refilled, and finished plates of half-eaten eggs and French toast remained unbussed, shoved to the center of the table. Few events could prevent the group from gathering for breakfast and companionship. And when an attack on one of their own occurred, even if Liam wasn’t a Trusics employee, it still hit close to home. It took no longer than the following morning for the news of Liam Dunbar’s condition to spread across the cubare community, but how the word got out was a mystery to Riley. No one in the group had expected to hear that the local playboy had been attacked. There were talks of occasional fights, but in general the community was more than happy to live independent, conflict-free lives. Riley tilted her coffee cup on its edge and stared into its brown, murky depths. She took a small sip of the nearly inconsumable liquid and made a face at the coffee grounds that remained on her tongue.
