Soldat sets the kettle on to heat. There's no actual coffeemaker, because Aziraphale is old-fashioned that way and liked to steep his own coffee. Weirdo.

Gone weirdo. Not-coming-back weirdo. Soldat takes a moment to breathe, facing away from Fjord and leaning both palms on the countertop, before answering, voice flatter than usual: "Not for much longer. Used to have two people here. They're gone now. Can't stay in an empty house."