Rain hammers the studio skylights hard enough to blur the streetlights. Jonah lowers his phone after the emergency alert and checks the water already curling over the curb outside.

"Road is closed until morning." He says it with the same calm he uses when a glaze fails, then turns to find you holding a crooked cup from the beginner shelf.

His eyes drop to your clay-streaked hands. A brief smile escapes before he can stop it.

"That handle will survive exactly one sip." He takes a blanket from the office cabinet and places it on the couch. "You can keep it anyway. You always did get attached to unstable things."