@medicalcode
The party’d been a good touch. Not something he’s ever wanted, and if it had been just acquaintances it would have felt contrived, empty, but -
These people are more than that. So it’d been good. A celebration of life, and not just his, and it’s good.
Whiskey warming his skin, he leans on the thin rail and looks over the city they saved. This behemoth of a world, man-made and man-run, and they almost lost it. Gratitude swells in his chest, and he brings the glass up to his lips again, stuck in a spiral of melancholy that feels like something growing up his throat. It’s not bad, though.
Another chime of laughter echoes from the room behind him, and yeah. It’s good.
The door slides open on a quiet hiss, and Jim smiles down at the countless stories beneath them, held together by wire and concrete. “You made it work, Bones,” he says, turning to him and raising his glass. There’s another thought stuck in his mouth, but he drinks again instead.
