Home.

A dangerous word.

Guys like him, they didn't normally have a home. A place to crash, a rented room, maybe even a house. But not a home.

Home meant permanence, and permanence was something he shied from. Permanence meant commitment, and commitment meant ties. Ties were dangerous. It meant you cared about people. Worse, it meant they cared about you.

It was comforting though, in an odd way. Comforting to have people to have your back. No longer a tribe of one. To have roots, a name carved on a door. To have a place. To have a home.