If anybody asked him, this was exactly what it was- a trip to check in on his brother- on his niece, more than anything, with leftovers from his own busy home for the duo and Dodger. If he was honest with himself, it was an effort to get away from home. He needed air, space, some kind of breakaway from being doted on and treated like he might break if someone bumped him too hard. It's not hard to adapt to the cane, the brace. It's just a pain to need them at all. He lifts the end of it to knock on the door gently, rapping at the base of the door with polished wood. "Nicky! You in? The station told me they made ya stay your ass home today, figured I'd bring somethin' to eat by, check in on you and squirt!"
In the further back part of his head, something else nags, it's got the voice of a gossiping church lady. It's the voice of his first wife and their mother and it's his own all at the same time, hissing that he's only here to try and measure up, because somebody said in a miserable rag that he was second choice. Because some part of him believes it. He shuts it down as capably as he can, knocking again. "Phoenix! Yer gonna freeze yer poor injured brother to death on your porch! And worse than that, yer gonna waste chili an' these leftover biscuits!"
@firecaptainphoenix
