Logan weighs the can in his hand, then sniffs it. Smells like old metal and the faintest scent of beer. Not a type he recognises. Nothing strange, just as if it's been sitting in the sun for a while.

"Thanks, kid." He glances at their surroundings, raising his eyebrows at the long hall. It should be frustrating to see after all that time spent wandering through places just like this, but instead it feels safe. Almost happy. Like they did the right thing.

"Feels like we're in the eye of the storm," he points out. "Guess somethin' in there liked us."