Long hours had been set aside to make sure that Natasha's legacy was not left to dwindle. It left Eugene often fairly exhausted, and he had been mightily grateful that Zevran had stepped into the role of preparing food. Those he trusted with food were few and far between, so Zev held a coveted spot. Jack had a few dishes he could manage quite well, but there were some evenings where it was nice to be together, the three of them, holed up in their little well-fortified home.

Call it paranoia, or an instinct honed through experience, but something shifted in the atmosphere... nearly imperceptible at first. The silence had become loud, and he glanced up from what he'd been focused on moments before Zev stepped away from the stove.

His eyes darted toward Jack to see if he'd noticed it, too. After all, they were both experienced in needing to keep a keen eye on the horizon, and if Jack had caught onto something as well...

Regardless, after a few moments, Eugene moved to stand, weaving his way out of the kitchen and wordlessly approached Zev. There was tension in his wings, maybe something unconscious, because the rest of him seemed calm, composed-- serene, even.