[ no, it's not her war, but she understands (in a way) what he means by it. by a war at her doorstep, by the feeling of everything pressing down, and down, and down again. suffocating, threatening, overwhelming. she doesn't know any of the details, doesn't even know if he means metaphorically, or figuratively, or maybe even literally.

still - it's... it's not lost on her, his honesty. it makes her feel something that is too early to name, too early to actually acknowledge. so instead she lets herself keep watching him, feeling... thoughtful. I was sent on a last-ditch mission. karen lets out a breath and nods like she understands it. ]

Bet this place feels like a second chance, after something like that.

[ there's a beat that follows where Karen, very suddenly, realizes how awkward that might be if she was wrong, or if she assumed incorrectly. she very quickly finishes off the rest of her bottle and resettles where she's seated. she gets the sense logan's also okay to let the conversation move ahead. I did stack a lot of crates back in the day. ]

That is somehow not surprising. At all. [ a pause, and then karen huffs a laugh, soft and half-hearted, and she leans forward to set her elbows on her knees. her smile lingers, even as she exhales, relaxed. ] And working on bikes, too.