Hard not to collapse into Ytel, right then and there. Hard not to collapse in general. Fionn pinned down a groan, his stitches making their presence very, very well known, mid-embrace. He very nearly fell out of the hug, leaning back into the nearest stall. And laughed, or did his best to, anyway. That hurt, damn. âSome things never do change, ah? Like you and your manky little mind. Iâd at least make dinner, firstâŚâ With a tight twitch of his neck, a grimace, Fionn curled over his wounds and sucked down a bit more of that cigarette. Irma⌠Irma was⌠a sister. Yes. Itâd been a while.Â
Family. To be near family. Oh, Ytel. Always was the better man, between them. Though, that wasnât such an achievement. Easy to do.Â
All the same, Fionn had liked him when they met, and liked him when he left. Which wasnât all that common. So he nodded, faintly. âRight. Good. And Christ no. Where the fuck would I do that? In this⌠place?â He flapped a hand, vaguely. At the whole town. With all that family in it. Last thing they needed was him sticking around any longer than he had to. Which was any time at all, really, really, so, he was already doing them a disservice. Nothing new, there. âA drink. Now youâre talking, man.â Pushing off the timbers, Fionn clapped Ytel on the shoulder. âLead the way. You a servant, then? Well, wellâŚâ he clicked his tongue, teasing. âSuppose weâve both come up in the world, havenât we? Literally, and otherwiseâŚâ Though, it didnât get much lower than a muddy, rat-infested trench, stinking of blood, shit, the dying, and the dead. And Fionn would know; heâd seen some fucking lows, before and since.
âWhatâve you gotten yourself into?!â Ytel shrilled at the sight of Fionn in agony. âGood God must I be the big brother for all my friends?â he exaggerated, laughing it off. He blinked as Fionn failed to explain his distaste for Lethe. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he would have to pry into that later. âThatâs what itâs called, arschloch! I am nobodyâs servant. I work for good money, labor with my hands, my abilities. You remember the earthquakes I used to make. You stay here, find a comfortable spot to sit at. Iâll get the beers and find you in a moment.â Though Ytel sounded pissed off as ever, Fionn would know it was his usual temperament, especially when handling Fionnâs dramatic ass. Ytel snuck into the quarters and pilfered two bottles of Blue Moon, weak shit compared to what they used to brew overseas, but a buzz was better than sober. They could at least agree on that.