viictorious-archived

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐜𝐢.​ )

“Cute costume. You looking forward to a night off? No heroics, no performances…” @viictorious​

In flight as a literal angel, Victor isn’t one to not preen when told he looks nice, and he just grins behind his shades. “You look fantastic,” he says, “And definitely. It’s not L.A., but I’ll take all the scheduled ragers I can get; even if it is hosted by Xavier’s.”

[viictorious-archived]

@matteo-emerson​—

"Glad to see that your arm’s all fixed, and that you got a date! Ah, youth. You haven’t been slacking on training yourself up, right? And minimizing the damn burns. That last one’s important.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝.​ )

          “Maybe?”   What  else  could  they  say?   Moth  didn’t  really  like  to  think  about  people  from  his  past  lives.   It  felt  weird  and  messy  to  think  about  past  lives,   past  people.   “I’m  sure.   I’m  a  delight  to  know  after  all.”   A  pain  in  the  ass  kid  from  France  living  in  New  York  now.   “Coffee  would  be  nice,   actually.   Weird  thing  I  can’t  afford  it  now.   Why  would  I  want  your  autograph?” 

Why would I want your autograph? New York really is something. He’d go to California to get his ego fluffed, but at least here, if they were too cool for him they’d tell him. “Eh. I’m a pop star-slash mutant superhero. Sometimes, it’s something we do.” He shrugs and walks next to him. “Coffee, I can do. I can spot you a couple, if you want. There’s a coffee shop ‘round the corner that’ll get your heart jackhammering like a construction site.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐚𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐚. )

         “i wouldn’t dream of it,” she gently teases, already itching for their battle. she wonders if yaren would be jealous, or if she’s had her own time sparring with him, yet. she hopes for the former. what can she say? sora has always, always enjoyed being first in everything she can manage. “we have a few rules, but that’s mainly reserved for… well, inexperienced kids,” she continues, laughing lightly. “don’t blow up the building and don’t inflict anything you can’t afford to recover from. other than that? i’m very much a fan of seeing what you can really do.”

His hand envelops itself in golden light, steadying himself as he hovers inches above the ground. Victor trains his eyes against Sora, behind those shades, behind the open field of the Danger room. He wonders what she can do—and if he has enough of himself to beat her. “Huh. Well, thanks for the heads up, at least.” He fires a laser blast at her. A middling one to test the defenses he’s going to have to pierce. “How’s that?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. )

Matteo nods as he listens to the other. For a moment, he closes his eyes and breaths in-holds it in for a moment-before letting it go slowly, feeling his body relax. Opening his eyes, the dummy comes into view. Matteo imagines that it’s one of the intruders from the attack, someone that would pull on his feelings more then a blank piece of wood would.He puts a hand out in front of him, and focuses. He watches as electricity is pulled off of the coil, creating a line to his hand, and the electricity collects-forming a ball. He watches as it grows. Prior to this, he had always kept them small, just big enough to be baseball sized or so. This time, he waits; ignoring the tingles that are running down his palm. The longer it sits there, the more the pain grows. Once it’s the size of soccer ball, it feels as if he’s put his hand on a burner, and he can see red lines moving up his arm and he can’t take it anymore. Matteo takes a step forward and throws the ball of light at the dummy, hitting squarely in the chest.

Matteo doesn’t stop to look at it, not seeing that the electricity has cut through the dummy to the other side, leaving the rest of the chest with dark fractal burns emanating from the hole. The wall on the other side of the dummy is left with a scotch mark; with similar burn-age around the area. Matteo is instead focused on the coil. He turns his body, and holds out the hand that he hadn’t used. He doesn’t collect the electricity into a ball this time, no, he focuses on pulling the electricity from the coil and sends bolts towards the other dummy, his uninjured hand focused on guiding them. He grits his teeth, imagining that he is back where he was during the attacks; trying to protect River with his broken wing and ducking under a broken table. It’s enough to almost forget about the pain, almost. He doesn’t keep track of how many bolts he sends but at some point, the pain in his once uninjured hand is growing and the one that he had used to hold the ball has a deep ache to it and he knows he’s close to hitting his limit. He drops his attention away from the coil and the string of electrical power conforms back into it, the air is filled with the smell of smoke and electricity-like after a lighting storm. 

Matteo lets his hands drop, they twitch a bit, breathing hard. Dark red lines and a smattering of pink ones litter his arms up to just below his elbow. The palm that held the ball is a deep red, with the center almost black. ‘That’s probably not great’ Matteo can’t help but think. It hurts to maneuver and bend his fingers, so he doesn’t try; instead turning to face Victor again. “How..How was that?” He asks, wiping the side of his cheek on his shoulder. “I..uh..think I might have to take a few days off training; to let these heal and stuff”

Victor focuses on the charge-up, the taste of ozone in the air as he smells something burning. There’s only one moment, then the other, then the next. Taking seconds and turning them into minutes. He sees the flash of ball lightning and while he was expecting more a blast of it, the added firepower was good enough for him. About to tell him to stop, Matteo lifts the other hand and sends out a barrage of electricity through the other. It’s impressive—it almost reminds him of himself.

Then, he stops. And he sees the full extent of his limits. A hurt hand. A worse arm. Too much like him. There’s a grimace and a pang of pain before he flies back down. He still tastes the ozone. His hair stands up around him. “For future reference, when I say test your limits? Probably don’t do that to your arm.” Turning to look at the destroyed dummies, he gives Matteo a smile, even so. He can appreciate some destruction. “But all’s said and done. You’re gonna be a powerhouse, kid.”

There’s a tingling, a reach that he can’t exactly see, but only feel. The yawning chasm of power tingles again at his fingertips. “I’ll send something to get someone to fix you up. You got time for some feedback kid?” He takes a breath and cools his arm, just enough to get him a little more stable. “If your arm’s not about to fall off, anyway.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐜𝐢.​ )

“Don’t worry, pretty sure I’ve still got some more rigorous media training to do before I’m let loose doing interviews alone, so your secrets are safe with me,” Yaren says. At least, anything about his studio album is safe because that’s boring. She’s only interested in the juicy stuff, but if music is so important to Vic then she’ll try and find a way to use that to get closer to him. Definitely ask him to play something for her, or let her hang around while he practices some time.

“Right, right, team bitch. Of course,” she grins. “I mean, I don’t need anyone to take pity on me. But I hear the life of a celebrity can get pretty lonely, so it seems like it’d just kind of suck if we all kept to ourselves.”

“Don’t worry, Ira. You’re gonna get real socialized ‘round the compound. And the publicists, thank God are less bloodthirsty than entertainment ones.” He winks, sparks coming out of his eyes. A small sign of affection and a thumbs up. She’s stressing out over nothing—and besides, if it’s media training she wants, Victor’s got a few tricks up his sleeve. Or Yaz does—she was always better with the good Christian girl front and she was a literal sweetheart.

“But we don’t and we won’t, if you want it. Maybe you can jump from building to building, fly with me on patrol or something.” Victor grins, shark-like and easy. “Sound good?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐛𝐚𝐞𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐚.​ )

          @viictorious​ !!

          “look who it is!” she greets, a smirk already curling at the edge of her lips. “i wasn’t sure you were actually going to show up. things have seemed so busy, recently.”

"Never let it be said that I disappoint.” He flies over, a grin on his face and a twirl in his flight. He hasn’t been this excited since he started doing arena tours. Victor is easy-breezy, but he readies himself to take a stance. “Especially if we’re lookin’ to fight. You got rules here, ma’am?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝.​ )

          “Ha,   no.   You’re  just…”   Moth  trailed  off,   not  sure  how  to  talk  about  this  sort  of  thing  when  he  was  supposed  to  be  not  around  anymore.   “Maybe  in  another  lifetime  ago.   I’m  Tim…   othée.”   It  was  weird  to  say  that  name  rather  than  their  last  fake  name,   even  after  three  years.  

“Yeah. Maybe.” Victor takes his headphones off and powers down the Walkman. Joan Jett and Queen blasting from the speakers, he crosses his arms and shrugs. “But I’m glad to see you, Timothee,” he says, a smile on his face. It’s a nice day, and a run and flight was all he needed to get out of his head. “You want anything? Want some water or some coffee or something? An autograph?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡.​ )

The handshake is offered, and there’s a moment of cruelty that flashes beneath his shades. He can refuse. Or burn his hand when he goes out to touch it—a sneering remark about his father, about the open gaps in the armor. Victor isn’t kind. The harder spikes, the sharper edges, but he sees his friend. He sees Matty and something in him pierces through the clouds. The wounds might not be seamless, but there will be healing, in the end.

So he holds the hand tight and pats his shoulder. No hugs, but it’s something. “I—Matty.” Not Matthias. Not Goetsch. Just… Matty. All at once, he returns to himself, and sighs, lingering in front of him, face hard as stone once more. “You’re not off the hook yet, but—” He looks impassive beneath the shades, the burning light beneath his eyes the only indication that he looks at him now.

“Well. You’re willing to try. I can hold a grudge, but why keep it anyways? It won’t keep me young and pretty, right?” That fake grin is plastered again onto his face, a practiced smile for now. One that Matthias knows well. “Besides. I missed your cars. You gonna take out to drive soon then, if you want to be my friend oh-so badly again?”

Matthias notices the hesitation if only briefly, he knows that their they still have a lot of work to do if they plan to fix what once was a genuine friendship, if they can manage to do that, maybe it will be even better, stronger, no more secrets, no more fear. But only with time and effort will they be able to tell if this was all worth it. 

This is a good start, it’s enough to make him have a bit of hope. He smiles a bit more easily than before, his laugh a bit more genuine and less practiced. “I know that,” he nods, Victor had never been the type of friend who said things only to please him, he was not afraid of telling Matthias the ugly truths and while that was almost their downfall, he did appreciate it, he needed more people like that. “You can tell your chauffeur to take a vacation, if that’s what you want. I just picked my favorite from the mechanic last week, he did a wonderful work, I’m sure you’ll appreciate it” 

END.

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.​ )

Matteo nods slowly “Yeah, they usually hurt a little but it’s nothing I can’t handle and all” He adds. He knows he’s downplaying it, that there’s been times, like after the attacks, where bolts of pain coursed through his body whenever he did anything with arms. How sleeping was basically impossible those first few nights before he was able to get them wrapped.  But the last thing he wants to do is come off as weak to someone like Victor; an Omgea who is basically the face if mutants to the general public. If Matteo can’t handle a little pain, what kind of hero could he even hope to be? He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he almost jumps out of his skin when he feels he other’s hand on his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, a little” Matteo responds, shrugging.  “You mean speed in moving? or in sending bolts? Because I’m pretty quick, but I’ve worked on the other stuff in class a bit” He runs a hand through his hair as he watches the coil come closer. “I kinda know my limits, like…the feeling of them? During the attacks I overused it a little, but I wasn’t exactly keeping track of how many bolts I was sending out and all, you know?” He jokes, but he’s not really joking, and his eyes widen at the other’s request. “Really? Um, ok. Lemme just…” He backs up a few steps.

“So..just…make a ball as big as I can and send it at the dummy? Or..wait.” Matteo squints at the wall behind the dummy. “Did..you happen to clear this with anyone? Because I don’t wanna fuck up a load bearing wall”

•

"Not speed. Power. We can work on speed all we like, but until I know what your upper limits are I’m not gonna try to get a handle on whatever electricity you got going on.” For his own safety, Victor flies clear of him, feet off the ground and a smirk on his face. He can’t remember what Han-byul did so he could just fire lasers. Mostly it was just punching and one-sided banter that got his blood hot enough to shoot something. Then it was all burn marks and laser light shows.

He doesn’t want Matteo to be hurting himself, but maybe if he lets it go this once, he’ll just try to find a nice middle ground between rubbing socks on the carpet and power outages. Then, he’ll go to medical and try to ask how he can build up his stamina... if at all.

He points at the dummy and grins. “I hear Xavier’s loaded. And he’s not stupid enough to let any harm come to us in the high-tech room where the kids explode.” A giant, glowing thumbs up appears next to Matteo as he grins at him from behind his shades. “You’re gonna do fine, kid.”

[viictorious-archived]

@timotheepicard​—

“Huh. Hey there, kid. What, a hair out of place or something?” Victor catches the young man’s eyes, something familiar about them, though he can’t exactly place it. “I—do I know you?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐜𝐢.​ )

In Yaren’s experience, healers aren’t much good when you can kill someone in one hit. But it’s something she knew going into: she was going to have to be very careful, because even an accidental death at her hands would make her look really bad. She doesn’t want a squeaky clean image, because nobody trusts that, but she also has very clearly defined parameters on how far she’s willing to go.

Victor waves his hands in a showy shower of sparkles, which internally makes Yaren want to roll her eyes. Mutants showing off always bugs her (it’s different when she shows off her strength! Her’s was gifted by Linda, not some naturally occurring mutation!) But of course, externally she looks suitably delighted. Not quite childlike wonder, but subtly thrilled by the charms of Victor’s abilities. “I mean, if you’re sure you can take it. I don’t pull my punches.” Yaren waggles her eyebrows. She absolutely does pull her punches. “And I definitely can’t let you sulk in your room all day, anyway.” Her expression falters, like she’s concerned, and she lowers her voice. “Are we not like… a team team, then? Not much in the way of casual hanging out?”

Lie. Everyone pulls their punches. It’s why Victor only goes for first degree burns or barely flashing lights whenever he spars. A flashbang is all well and good, but a searing blast of light that carves shadows against a wall? Probably not. Definitely a war crime, mostly a cool move. But he indulges her and laughs, not tipping his hand. “Don’t go punching my lungs out—I still need to sing for the adoring public. And for a soon-to-be released studio album, but don’t quote me on that!

At the second question, Victor shakes his head at her. “Oh, that’s just me. Everyone else’s as sweet as pie! Team bitch, remember?” It’s a little more sardonic than he lets out. He doesn’t like her yet, but hell, it took a few months to get used to them, anyway. Yaren has a winning personality to boot, and at least he’s learned to keep some sympathy for their shared sentences. “We’re a team team, don’t you worry. We’ll get you in the super-secret mutant club.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.​ )

Matteo frowns at Victor’s words. He knows he’s not getting told off, but he was expecting at least a smile, or something. But he guesses being mentored isn’t about getting validation, it’s about learning and he is definitely doing that. “Right, I was just wanting to-” He cuts himself off at the sight of Victor shooting light at the dummy, his eyebrows raised. “Oh that’s so cool” He mumbles looking down at his own hands. He’s not sure if something like that would be possible. Maybe if he was able to somehow use the electricity that’s running through his own body? He’s pretty sure one of the doctors would want to have words with him if he ever tried though. 

Matteo sighs “Yeah; I mean, I know how to send bolts, and how to make things into balls and send them at things. I just have to work on being able to hold them for longer to make them bigger an all” He shrugs. “But I mean, the burns are never like, bad or anything-just annoying. They don’t scar for whatever reason.” Matteo holds out his arms as if to show the other, the fingers that he used to flick the electricity are a little red and the hand it was resting on has a small streak of red on the palm; but he’s dealt with worse. “Plus, whats a lil pain to gain new power and all?”

•

"Kid. The burns shouldn’t—” Well, he didn’t have the medical reports so he wasn’t sure, so he shuts his mouth and tries again. He wasn’t exactly teacher material; it’s why he went into the arts, after all. “If it’s annoying, maybe try to mitigate it, alright? The ball of light is cool and all, but if the burns are distracting, you should start to think about it as a hitch rather than an annoyance.” Putting a hand on his shoulder, he tries to be reassuring, a mentor. He’s tried converting his light to electricity for him to siphon off but it always ends with him tasting ozone and feeling his bones. What’s a little pain to gain new power?

Victor smiles, that media-trained smile as he calls up another dummy. “You do any stamina training yet, Matt? Speed?” Floating up, he calls on a Tesla coil for him to take power off of. “You know your limits yet? Because if you want to know ‘em, maybe we can start there and then work our way up, just so you don’t burn out or fade away after we get you through the wringer.”

Hand, gesturing to the coils, he tries something to get the training going. “Try taking as much as you can and then letting it out at the dummy,” he says, “Try and control it, if you can. I’ll be here to help if you need to let go.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐯𝐜𝐢.​ )

Never gotten on eye-to-eye. Interesting, interesting. Yaren files that away under ‘things I want to find out more about’. Victor says it very lightly, but the fact that he’s so immediately willing to admit to not getting on with Han-Byul sure suggests something that runs deep.

“His thing’s gravity manipulation, right? I guess that’d stymie a few of my favourite tricks, but if things start looking bad for me I can always just throw him a few miles away. Is it bad that I’m kind of really looking forward to training? I was the only mutant for miles where I used to live, so rough-housing was a pretty risky game. Can’t wait to tussle with people that actually give me a bit of a challenge.”

"Oh, I like that.” Victor tries the barrage, the whole flashbang deal, before he learned that light and sound use gravity and have mass for some ungodly reason. Thankfully, the old man hasn’t learned how to use his powers to create a singularity, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Hey, listen. We got healers on deck, so if you want to spar with anyone?” He waves his hands in a show of sparks, of light. He may look like he’s all glitz and flash, but people always seem to forget that he’s basically learned how to fly out of spite—that and he can shoot lasers with his fingers. “I’m down for some bruising. Besides, it might get me out of my room once in a while.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐨 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧. )

“Wait, ok, so just-just watch” Matteo says grinning as he stepped a few paces back from the light that had been set up. He lifted a hand and a string of electricity  flowed out of the light and towards his hand, the light flickering and then going dead. Matteo focused on the light in his hand and watched as it slowly formed into a ball shape, and cut off the connection with the light once it had formed to be as big as he wanted it. He could feel his hand burning, but he pushed the pain aside and focused on the mannequins in front of him. Using the hand that wasn’t currently holding the ball of electric energy, he slowly brought two fingers up, and flicked the light; sending a piece of it towards the mannequins chest, and then another at a different mannequin’s torso. With his final flick, he tried to aim for it’s leg, but missed and it hit the wall with a loud ‘thud’. “I have to work on my aim a bit, but, that’s progress right?” He asked, turning back towards the other, hand hidden behind his back.

@viictorious​

Victor floats a few inches off the ground, crossing his arms, just a little impressed. Electricity is hard enough to deal with for him, but training alongside Matteo, he’s learned to at least mitigate some effects. Electricity is hard. Harder than light for him, but at least it’s something new. Something to deal with aside from his teammates, aside from grief, aside from everything that’s happened up ‘til now. “Listen. Target practice comes later, kid.” Holding his hand up like a gun, he fires three rounds into the thing’s chest, and one into its head before turning back.

“You gotta learn how to blast it out first.” God, he sounds like Han-byul. Maybe that’s the thing he hates the most about this, that guy that he resents is his go-to schtick for teaching the kid at Xavier’s. “You can’t store this shit for long, and you hurt yourself. Precision comes when you learn how to not burn yourself after taking a fan on.”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡. )

Matthias almost flinches at that, he had ruined too many friendships in the past and that had lead him to believe that he really was not capable of maintaining one anymore. He had seen it in Max’s eyes when he first saw her after five years, she had forgiven him and their situation was more complicated and yet he was sure he had not been a friend that she deserved. He still saw it in Ciaran’s eyes, how guarded he was, how upset he still became, he knew he was not a good friend and yet here Victor was, still believing in him despite all that had happened between them.

He looks at Victor, the way the light dances around in his skin, glowing, illuminating him and for a moment Matthias thinks how it suits him, how it complements him in a way that he can’t still quite understand. Maybe he never will. Maybe they will forever be on two opposing worlds, however that did not meant their friendship should be ruined forever.

He nods at first, looks at his face next and says “Yeah, I’m willing to try” he had never meant to hurt Victor and he had never wanted to lose him, not like this. That’s why he reaches out first for a handshake, his fingers feeling the warm light near his skin “If you’re willing to have me back as a friend”

The handshake is offered, and there’s a moment of cruelty that flashes beneath his shades. He can refuse. Or burn his hand when he goes out to touch it—a sneering remark about his father, about the open gaps in the armor. Victor isn’t kind. The harder spikes, the sharper edges, but he sees his friend. He sees Matty and something in him pierces through the clouds. The wounds might not be seamless, but there will be healing, in the end.

So he holds the hand tight and pats his shoulder. No hugs, but it’s something. “I—Matty.” Not Matthias. Not Goetsch. Just... Matty. All at once, he returns to himself, and sighs, lingering in front of him, face hard as stone once more. “You’re not off the hook yet, but—” He looks impassive beneath the shades, the burning light beneath his eyes the only indication that he looks at him now.

“Well. You’re willing to try. I can hold a grudge, but why keep it anyways? It won’t keep me young and pretty, right?” That fake grin is plastered again onto his face, a practiced smile for now. One that Matthias knows well. “Besides. I missed your cars. You gonna take out to drive soon then, if you want to be my friend oh-so badly again?”

[viictorious-archived]

( 𝐟𝐭. 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫.​ )

Jordan returns the small smile, one that warms a little more with gratitude when Victor hands him some tissues. Then surprise lights up on his face when he’s handed the phone number, but he carefully accepts the piece of paper and makes a note to put in a safe spot once he returns to his room. All the while, his friend’s words are sinking in and slowly starting a fire of comfort, of reassurance. He knows that he won’t be rushing to thank himself just yet, still needing to grapple with the less than healthy mindset that he developed during June. But he can pat himself on the back at the very least. For making the first step and setting off in a better direction.

“You too,” he echoes the promises. Jordan’s belief in himself may be shaky at times, but he will always believe in his friends and cheer them on in their endeavors. He glances at the paper again while he listens to Victor, nodding along in understanding before he carefully sets his borrowed guitar to the side. Jordan pushes himself up off the floor and moves just a bit while he holds his arms open for a hug. “Now, these are things that I will thank you for,” he replies. For having an open door to a safe space, for the offer remaining on the table until he is ready, and the possibilities of amazing things to come in the future. “You are a great friend, Victor. And I appreciate you so fucking much.”

There’s no humor or quips or vacant sadness in Victor, only the hollow feeling of happiness against him as Jordan espouses what a good friend he is to him. He isn’t, of course. If he was better, one of them would be alive, but it isn’t time to dredge that up again. Not after Jordan’s stopped crying over David. There’s a last swig and he sets the bottle down, returning the hug. He holds him close, harder. As if he was going to leave too, but well—Victor’s learned not to get too attached to too many people. Maybe there’s an exception for Jordan.

He thinks he cries, but he’s learned to dull that part of himself just a little. A small wetness in his eyes as he holds and is held by a friend, for the first time in a long time. “Sorry if I smell like—” Like booze. But really, that’s simply a hollow little sentiment. He’s just sorry if he has booze breath. “Well, you’re good. I still don’t think I’m a great friend, but if you say so, Jordy. You’re great too. You’re the sanest person in this goddamn madhouse and—” His throat closes, but he passes it off, a smile on his face. “Well, we’re lucky to have you. I’m very lucky to have you.”