[It is something else. While it's immensely comforting, it certainly has a way of stripping a person of their agency. Lazarus doesn't recommend it.

His face brightens considerably at the verdict on the coffee, though.]

You like it? Good! Make some friends and tell them it's worth coming for.

[Said slightly ruefully, but he recovers briskly and relatively gracefully.]

I can get behind no more death, more than I can possibly say. I've lost friends; a young man named Anthony was gunned down right behind that counter.

[He points, over his shoulder, without looking that way. He has the location memorized.]

War zone or not, it's our home. We should be able to keep living here.