See, now I know you're drunk. You're falling back on the pickup lines. [ And the smile, it feels like a sucker punch every time, a fucking concealed weapon--makes him feel like his guts are wide open. He diverts his eyes to the new ice pack placement. ] Y'know, if you were out someplace dicey, I would've come walk with you before you got picked over.

[ Not that he has a car or can afford to be out anywhere or would be a huge help in a big fight, but--he reaches to cover the pack with his own hand. To help. To have a reason to stay close. The militant tone is gone, faded to something serious but (buzzing in his stomach, creaking in his throat) soft: ] I'm--I am. Glad you're here.