❝ hey, it's just us. come on, nice. focus on me. ❞ maybe attempting to have a normal get together, a small night out on the town was a mistake. but there is no denying that wreck had wanted something different from their usual, the typical hiding away that he had been subjected to. that was not what he wanted their conversations to rotate 'round, not when this was a day to celebrate his friend. ❝ i'm going to end up ordering a pizza at this rate. something easy that we can share but the whole point is for the birthday boy to pick what he wants. ❞
he knew better than to present any gifts out beyond their walls of comfort, thus he kept it for their return later. a piece of jewelry that could be worn around finger, toe, or even a mere chain. a vibrant azure steeped into nice white gold. clean. he thought it might match something in the hero's wardrobe but nice was free to do whatever he wished with it. (late bday ask uwaaa)
that's not new. he's always tired. but it's much more visible now than it typically is; most of his features being obscured by mask and hat, an attempt to hide his identity while out in public, the darkness around his eyes stands out. so, too, does his complete and utter lack of focus, staring blankly at the menu before him.
his thoughts are looping: this is dangerous. they shouldn't be out here. they should be in the safety of wreck's home. he's being a terrible friend. it's not fair to wreck to make him hide all the time. but this is dangerous, and they shouldn't be out here, and--
he snaps back to attention when he hears the name "nice" spoken. a second to register what was actually said, and then he frowns. "don't call me that right now," he mutters, keeping his voice low. "do you want to get caught?" and then he sighs, because for all nice's complaining, wreck is also completely right to be complaining. "sorry. didn't mean to space out; i was working late last night."
truthfully, he doesn't need a present, especially not a physical one. certainly, he'll treasure it, but it'll almost certainly never see the light of day. he doesn't need anybody getting nosy about it and figuring out the designer, the jeweler who sold it, the identity of the buyer--perhaps less likely than he thinks, but not impossible. better not to invite the possibility in the first place. better to keep it safe at home where nobody will see it except those who can be trusted to keep a secret. time away from work with his favorite person in the world is far better and far more valuable--he just wishes they weren't in public, where they run the risk of being identified.
he leans in closer to wreck, subtly. "pizza's too greasy. pick something else." he'll eat whatever is ordered, though. even if it's greasy, or fatty, or looks ill-prepared. realistically, he should be able to handle one bad meal without any issues, trust forcing his body to remain perfect; it's just a mental barrier, one he's willing to push past, just this once.