The department had been accident-free for 100 days. Everyone was buzzing about the party they had earned as a result. Naturally, the party was scheduled for day-dweller hours despite there being 24-hours worth of shifts. It meant that AJ had to attend in his uniform and missed the bulk of the celebration when his unit had a call out.

Two hospital escorts, a swollen foot, and a nail through the thigh later, the party was over and AJ felt like he hadn't gotten to celebrate at all. That's why, despite his tendency to stay in, he decided to take his fellow swing-shifter's advice and go out. That's why despite being tired, he sucked it up and helped find a place that looked promising. Maybe he'd even have fun.

AJ tore through his closet for something, anything that wasn't comfort clothes, work out clothes, or uniform related.

Pickings were slim.

He debated wrapping his head in a turban instead of bothering with his hair, but it felt disingenuous. He'd turned his back on the strict practices of his faith. To ask to be set apart now... AJ stuffed it back into a drawer and found his pommade.

A quick stop by the ATM not too far from the club and he figured he'd be good to go.

"Why don't you go back to where you came from?"

The jeer was so unexpected that he didn't think they were talking to him.

"You mean the Upper East Side?" He looked around, but the other person in line at the ATM was already ducking her head down. Not her problem. AJ didn't blame her one iota.

"You know what I mean."

Yeah. AJ took note of the thin drawn lips and the hardened expression. He was fast figuring out what the guy meant. And there was nothing he could say that would diffuse the burning anger behind the man's eyes. What did AJ remind him of, exactly? Was it the black on black clothes? He'd thought black was classic.

"I'll take it under advisement." And he turned to take his turn at the ATM, doing his best to ignore the grumbling. That seemed to be the end of it, though the interaction bothered him. AJ stuffed his cash in his pocket rather than putting it away properly and was on his way. He was in enough of a rush that he figured to take a short cut might be more efficient. It didn't occur to him that it was more dangerous until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You think you can talk to me like you belong here?”

The anger burned hot in the man’s gaze. Red flushed his cheeks as his nostrils flared; his expression had soured with some perception of insult. Jeans, old boots, a brown leather jacket over some worn hoodie gave him a common appearance. It was clear however something altogether different had pushed him to his words and then to follow.

The man pulled at AJ’s shoulder to turn him around. “Your kind should stop taking jobs and hand outs and go home. All of you,” he bellowed. “You can’t even police your own extremists,” he snorted. The fingers of his other hand rubbed against one another as the sound of his dry, callused skin foreshadowed his intentions. If he worked new construction or on the docks here on Red Hook it wouldn’t have been a surprise.

Devon didn’t find much surprising in Red Hook anymore. Two years ago it’d been mostly run down warehouses and incoming retail stock. He’d trained here, met Spasm here, found friendship with Cal here, helped fight a small crime gang here… And all because it was changing to new townhomes, restaurants, and clubs. Urban renewal was a thing, but apparently racism and hatred were still prevalent.

He knew the side streets well and was intent on getting to the Hookline to meet with a few of the local new land grab owners. They wanted a VIP party, but Devon wanted to talk business. He wasn’t about to invite them to Haven; these weren’t philanthropic sorts after all. Devon was going to be ensure people didn’t get pushed out of their homes though, one way or another. So sure, he could go to this club.

Of course, Devon might end up having to talk with the police before that could happen if what he heard was any indication. He picked up the pace, turning down the side alley where he’d heard the comments. Darkness gathered in Tempest’s eyes as he came up six or seven yards behind whomever the rougher neck was provoking.

A telltale rush of anger and helplessness flooded AJ as he turned. The man didn't even have the right religion and India and Iraq were quite a ways apart. Not to mention that he had actually been born in Canada. And AJ already knew there was nothing he could do to make it better. Nothing he could do to educate the man that wouldn't just feed the hate he'd been nurturing. Threatening him, intimidating him, fighting him? None of that would help. Not that AJ had any experience in those things.

AJ lifted his hands in open surrender, his steel bracelet falling down his forearm a bit. Its weight was a good reminder of what he should and should not be doing with his fists, no matter what this man chose to do with his.

"I think you know deep down that this is not a kind action."

For that AJ got popped in the eye. It was a surprise haymaker from the side, but even if he'd seen it coming, AJ had already resolved not to retaliate. He pulled his hands in closer to his head to better block, keeping his palms open.

"The **** it is. You people--" He swung again, but AJ was better prepared this time and took most of the blow on his forearm. He glanced around to see how far he had to go to get away and was discouraged. Backup was already coming for the guy? "What do you know about kindness?" He swung again, a glancing hit to AJ's ear that made the night ring. "You didn't think about the people inside when you were dancing back home after 9-11." Rolling his eyes did not at all diffuse the situation. The man punctuated each point with a fist. "Undercut on wages, pushing good folk out of their jobs, sucking up our tax dollars, filthy welfare queen."

Frustration made them both grip their hands into fists. How much more of this did AJ have to take?

"What is this fixing!?" He backed up out of reach of a swing, but backed into the side of the club he was supposed to be enjoying.

"One less of you."

Things escalated faster than Devon could have expected as he approached. One man said something but held up his hands peacefully as if in surrender to the racist barbs tossed his way. The other started hitting, fist flying to the side and far more barbs. Devon repressed the desire to strike as he hefted his phone.

It was a mass of dodges and glancing blows as someone – he looked familiar – tried to hold his own without fighting back. Devon was more than a little surprised at the vitriol simply let loose by the roughneck, but then again Devon only had to suffer one kind of attack: anti-mutant. He was a white man to most after all with a barely obvious physical mutation and even that was hidden easily. He’d seen how this could go and it made the hair on the back of his neck rise as the smell of ozone shifted through air.

One man backed up to the wall of the side alley. The other came after him.

>> "What is this fixing!?"

>> "One less of you."

“Stop,” Devon commanded without yelling. Some few feet from the man who’d initiated the fight, Devon glared with returned blue eyes. He might have stirred the air, but electrocuting anyone wasn’t going to help, let alone he might fry his phone… He wiggled it in his hand before slipping it into a pocket. “You stop this right now. I don’t know what you’ve experienced that you think justifies your behavior, but I recorded your racist tirade. Projecting on this man who likely fears what happened as much as how you treat him is reprehensible and illegal,” Devon’s tone was firm, flat rather than scolding.

“Who the hell are you? Sympathizing snowflakes letting these sand-“

“One more word and you will see snowflakes unlike any blizzard you have ever seen,” Devon warned, his chin inclined as he glared down his nose.

“You’re making it easy for them. One more blown up building. One more shot up club-”

“One more destroyed homeless shelter. One more shot up school. One more panicked music festival,” Devon’s chest heaved as his nostrils flared, breath quickening. He stepped forward swiftly, putting himself in between both men.

The man chortled, rolling his eyes, but his hands relaxed as steps slowly brought him back. “You’re just helping them,” he snorted, the retreat begun.

And it was good he did. Devon could no longer see the currents he’d sent churning; the air masses he’d pushed to collide. What temperature the air above the man, near the wall… He didn’t know any of it. He couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. He wanted just one gust, but it didn’t arrive. “I help those who need it,” Devon affirmed, maintaining his tone even as fear crept up his spine.

It was easy to confront violence with the storm at your back. It was hard to do so with the sky out of reach.

Back the roughneck went, laughing.

> “Stop,”

AJ gawked and immediately paid for the slip in his guard with a ringing hit to the maxilla and upper alveolar processes. He'd thought the man was coming as backup for his attacker. At best it'd be a friend to come drag him away. At worst, he expected to be ganged up on. He hadn't decided yet where he drew the line, but his frustration and adrenaline were off the charts.

This third option, where the man that showed up was a stranger to them both was one AJ hadn't even imagined.

The other man grabbed AJ's shirt to try to control him as he turned to spit his vitriol at the newcomer. He had decided he wouldn't fight back, but a man could only be pushed so far. He dislodged the man's hand and gave him a shove away. A shove was still an open hand. That was skirting his own rules a bit, but away sounded good. Real good in fact, but it wasn't in the cards.

The new guy made a few quick steps, almost like animal posturing. AJ squinted as one of his eyes was starting swell. There was something a little familiar about the newcomer, now that he was looking closely. The angry man decided that he was less invested in fighting someone who would fight back.

> “I help those who need it,”

"Wish I could change his mind." Because AJ had been doing sooo well on the front. Now? Now he had all this energy and anger and he didn't quite know what to do with it. AJ flexed and unflexed his hands. He knew that hitting the wall would only result in him hurting himself on the wall, but he wished he could do something.

"Thanks." It was unfulfilling to wipe at his mouth and straighten his shirt. "Am I too messed up to go inside?" Were his co-workers still there, even?

>> "Wish I could change his mind."

Devon sighed, nodding as he watched the man retreat. “Yeah I had hoped what I was hearing was simply misplaced anger and fear, but not simply illogical hatred,” he glanced back at the man momentarily. He looked uneasy, let alone the eye was a darkening red and the upper lip was swelling. “If you want to press charges, I’ve got video.”

Turning around he gave another nod, “And you’re welcome. I’m sorry I was too late to prevent the actual fight. Bullies like that don’t usually throw punches when their numbers are in the minority. You’d think they could figure that out.” He frowned as the man – definitely familiar – tried to adjust his shirt and right his cothing.

Devon stepped back, trying to give him space but also to see just how far this extended… It didn’t take much. Suddenly the world was alive once more. This Adapted had a small radius. The storm was with him. A myriad tell-tale signs silently spoke to him. Devon took a deep breath as he winced slightly.

“I don’t know about going in. Your eye looks like it might darken on you and the lip might swell. You should get ice on it,” Devon nodded. “A drink is probably in order, alcoholic or otherwise depending what you imbibe but so long as it has ice. You might be okay. Clothes are good. If there was blood and I didn’t see any, black would hide it, besides it’s always good for a club.” He gestured at his own attire: dark denim and a black button down with wide cuffs and collar.

“How about we get you that drink and we figure out why you look so familiar.”

> “Yeah I had hoped what I was hearing was simply misplaced anger and fear, but not simply illogical hatred. If you want to press charges, I’ve got video.”

"He's got his reasons, little as we understand them." AJ was standing alright. That was good as far as head injury went. He walked his fingers carefully around his eye socket to check for the telltale signs of a fracture, but decided it was just bruising and he'd be able to live with that.

"I don't really want to press charges." It rubbed him the wrong way and smacked of pettiness. On the other hand... if that man made a habit of trying to isolate and harm others... maybe they could turn the evidence over to the police in case of... something. "I don't want him doing it again, either." Hence the hope that their little chat had done something... He checked, but the man really was gone. Not even his shadow darkened their dim alleyway.

AJ could feel his impotent rage seeping away. His head hurt too much to hold on to it. He wiped his mouth again. Mouths could heal quickly. It would stop bleeding before they made it inside.

> “I don’t know about going in..."

AJ smiled just to show off how very okay he was. He knew in the dim light his pearly whites were rather bright.
"Aw c'mon, mom. It's dark. Nobody will notice." And he wasn't even out to find anybody anyway. Just a quiet drink with co-workers and people watching. That's all he'd had planned. He grinned a hair wider and that was enough to re-split his lip. Ah. Crap.

> “A drink is probably in order..."

"Yes. Ice. Cryotherapy is best for cutaneous, soft tissue injuries." And maybe he was showing off just a little bit. Wouldn't want his hero to think he was totally pathetic, would he?

> “How about we get you that drink and we figure out why you look so familiar.”

"First one's on me." That was both a threat and promise. As for where they'd met before, that was easy. AJ motioned for the guy with the striking eyes to lead the way. "Been around any disasters, phych treatment centers, or emergency rooms?"

>> "He's got his reasons, little as we understand them."

Devon nodded. That was true, surprised as he was to hear the sympathy out of the man’s target for his hate and anger. He watched carefully the man check around his eye. What was he doing exactly? Feeling out the damage?

And he didn’t want to press charges either. A moment’s pause gave new thought to the idea of the danger the man brought to others possibly. Devon decided he’d have Architect, Blueprint, Ranger, and contacts at the police department look into it. Good luck staying anonymous on traffic cams and social media.

The guy meanwhile put on a brave front, smiles and all. It stung in Devon’s chest how often he saw this: put it out of your head and moved on. It happened too often, the harassment and the violence. Women had done it for so long. Minority individuals felt it often too. How excused does the behavior have to be by society and the powerlessness felt that you just grin and bear it? It made Devon deeply angry, but he swallowed it down and focused on the positive, uplifting approach this man was taking lest the storm he’d started earlier build.

>> "Aw c'mon, mom. It's dark. Nobody will notice."

Devon half-smiled and nodded, though laughter didn’t find his lips. He was too busy suggesting ice on the lip but the guy did probably want a drink and Devon certainly wasn’t the man’s keeper. …and the man himself sounded a bit biologically aware or medically-minded anyway about treating his injury. An eyebrow rose at the comment.

“How about we get you that drink and we figure out why you look so familiar.”

>> "First one's on me. Been around any disasters, phych treatment centers, or emergency rooms?"

Devon nodded slowly, “Yes, actually.” He pursed his lips slightly as he gestured out the alley the way he’d come. “I counsel individuals for the city sometimes. While emergency room visits are rare, treatment centers I see often for those that can’t come to me. I’m at Sanctuary fairly often to those in need of assistance who couldn’t easily pay, though again for psychological or other counseling. My medical training is limited to some first aid; I’m a psychologist.”

The city shone brighter out of the alley. The man was nowhere to be seen and the sign for the Hookline was a neon welcome. “But disasters…” Devon’s voice trailed off. Halloween. The parking garage. The monstrously dangerous psychic girl. The torn portal, the fake torn portal… All the denizens of hell and oblivion. Devon swallowed down that troubling fear. “We met on Halloween,” he nodded slowly and glanced to his side.

All the world had dimmed. The storm was not there even as the danger of that night came back. This man was definitely an adapted.

It didn't take them long to connect the dots. And considering the man --AJ wracked his brain, but came up short for a name-- was a psychologist and the sheer number of transfers that unit 2 ran, there was a possibility that he'd seen him more than once.

"Halloween. Riiiiight." The remembering was obvious in his tone. AJ remembered that night. It was the first time he'd tried to use his luck to get what he'd wanted. That was before he'd learned that his luck wasn't luck at all. He was able to shut off mutant abilities. Compared to the aftermath of that this little incursion was just water off a duck's back. And the guy had an obvious response even in just speaking the words. Halloween had not been kind to him.

"Well, the tables are a bit turned tonight." And that was probably the last he'd say about that since he didn't want to point out how out of it that the man had seemed that night and he certainly didn't want him to be out of it tonight. It was hard enough to talk past his fingers which were putting pressure on his lip. Double the difficulty once they reached the line for the door.

"I'm AJ." He offered his hand, the opposite from the usual since he had a biohazard on his dominant hand in the form of his bloodied lip. He hoped that he didn't look as disheveled as he felt. If there was one thing AJ wanted from his appearance, it was to present himself as in-control. Already, he felt anything but.

The paramedic remembered and a sense of shame flitted through Devon. He’d lost control. He’d caused numerous people to be hurt. He’d been unable to help the girl and her rather deranged sisters. He’d torn the sky asunder to fight something that wasn’t there. He’d been lost to the Tempest and the fear still lingered. His nightmares teased his conscious rational mind: what if the another portal might release oblivion’s monsters?

He warred with himself. It was a tragedy, a horror but one he had to move past. He kept going, kept working. Best way to handle if this vision had been true was to be ready for it. New training and new friends would help make that easier. They had to be ready, but there were real monsters out there. Some were merely people trapped in their own fears and horrors. It was easy to remember when he was awake anyway…

>> "Well, the tables are a bit turned tonight."

“Yeah,” Devon chuckled, but the humor was weakly forced much as he might try to sound jovial. Thankfully AJ let it go and instead introduced himself. Thank God for HIPAA. Some things were private, but Devon wondered just how much the federal government was probing into the night’s activities. He hadn’t heard if the girls had survived or what had happened to them, even after he tried look into it. Devon didn’t like not knowing.

“Devon,” he replied, taking AJ’s hand with a long shake. “Thanks,” he added simply, smiling as warmly as he might. The man had helped quite a bit, especially Celeste. Now that he thought about it, the man’s adapted nature explained a lot about his blurry memories and limited recognition of the night’s events. No wonder it all felt like a terrible nightmare.

The line was moving though not what Devon would call quick. It was prime arrival time, long past summer but well enough before midnight. The night had begun and the Hookline was busy. The bouncers however took sight of Devon Hadden and gestured him forward. “Stick with me,” Devon said quickly. “They were expecting me.”

Slipping out of the line Devon waited the footstep or two to ensure AJ was with him. Up he went to the thick necked and thick armed men watching the door, the list, and the line. “Devon Hadden,” one said more than asked.

“Yes, and my friend as well,” Devon said with a warm grin.

One narrowed his eyes at the bruising eye and held lip of AJ while the other queried, “You alright?”

“A problem we took care of. Time for a drink,” Devon nodded slowly. “But I’d watch the side alley. Hate to see someone else get jumped.”

Both bouncers nodded, “Yeah.” The first continued, “We’ll let the manager know.”

Devon looked to AJ as the second stepped aside for them. He hurried inside to the thrumming base of the remixed Top 40. He gestured toward a bar on the opposite side and swiftly cut through the crowd for it.

There was a lot more to Devon's thanks than just thanks. Halloween was still weighing on the other man, clearly, and AJ was a trigger as one of the few people who'd been through the aftermath. Maybe he should excuse himself and let the guy go, but if he did that every time he should, then AJ would be friendless outside of his work family. So when Devon called for him to stick close, AJ did. He knew better than to delve into Halloween. That was more Devon's realm than AJ's anyway. The mechanical side of the body was a more reliable puzzle to solve. The psyche got far too esoteric for his tastes, if anyone ever actually understood the mechanizations of a mind at all.

It felt good to get waved to the front of the line, even if it was expected. AJ raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He was scanning the line as he passed to be sure none of this friends were stuck waiting. They must have been inside.

Was he Devon? Yes he was. And AJ was the friend. He turned to show his face to the man, knowing he wasn't going to be recognized. He let his hand fall away since the lip was scabbing up again.

> “You alright?”

AJ opened his mouth to answer, the question had been aimed at AJ, after all. But Devon again showed that he was used to being in command. Ugh. Yeah. It was the right thing to do to let the people in charge know, but did it have to be in front of the entire line? He did his best not too look back at all those interested ears.

"Just need some ice." AJ grumbled.

Just like that the door was open to them. Jumped in the alley apparently meant he got to jump the line. Oh. Wait. Didn't he have a cover fee? He had his cash and... nope. They were already inside. This Devon guy was a) expected here and b) recognized and c) not expected to pay his way in... soooo kind of a big deal. AJ smoothed his hair back and made himself stand tall. He wasn't going to let himself find a dark corner to hide away in. That hadn't been the intention of tonight.

The intention for tonight was to get a drink. AJ scanned the crowd and used his shoulders to make his way through in the fast closing wake behind Devon. Where were his workmates? Even at the bar, he didn't see them.

"What's your drink?" He made sure to get the bartender's attention before Devon could. Sometimes the leadership training that came with his EMS was handy outside of directing disaster aftermath. He knew when to flat out ignore the social norm in order to get the results he wanted. "Don't forget the first is on me."

And of course this was one of those testing moments. Alcohol was verboten, just like so many other things AJ did. He promised himself he would exercise discipline and not drink toward the outcome of indulging in escape or intoxication. With that in mind he ordered an old fashioned. If he remembered right that came with a giant single cube, usually.

>> "Just need some ice." AJ grumbled.

Devon grimaced slightly at the discomfort; clearly the man was somewhat embarrassed. It didn’t seem likely to get by the bouncers without some clarification. Hopefully no one paid it too much attention. AJ seemed to roll with it as they got inside, though Devon now felt guilty.

>> "What's your drink?"

“Vodka and sprite, preferably a vodka with some flavor like black cherry or a gin and tonic,” Devon answered as his newfound friend called over the bartender. Devon wasn’t even trying to pay for it. He’d acquiesced to that request after all.

>> "Don't forget the first is on me."

Devon smiled and nodded, saying “Thanks,” though maybe not quite loud enough. As he waited he scanned the club with searching eyes. He didn’t see the investment banker who’d bought up part of the wharf or the real estate investor who’d bought numerous closed warehouses. Had they left already?

AJ surprised him with an old fashioned. He wasn’t sure even if the man would drink for religious or career reasons. The old fashioned seemed a gentlemanly tradition that Devon wondered if it had been acquired from an older relative or friend. They said drink choice said something about a person. Devon wasn’t sure what his said about him, though he didn’t drink much anyway. It seemed he drank mostly when Artair was around.

An amused grin came over his face as he turned back to AJ, “Looks like the people I was supposed to meet aren’t even here.” He chuckled and shook his head as the bartender offered up their drinks. Devon took it with a nod and another mouthed thank you. “And thanks again,” he raised it to the EMT.

He stared deadpan. Sprite and vodka sounded terrible. "Why don't you just put skittles in your paint thinner?" He teased, but really it was inexperience. Maybe he'd try one of those next... err next time. One drink was more than enough for today.

AJ settled up the tab and put a tip in the jar. He passed over Devon's drink and noticed the other man looking around. It seemed AJ's friends weren't the only ones MIA. Of course Devon was meeting someone. He'd been expected at the door and they'd been waved in past the line. Aj had hoped... well, he wasn't sure what he'd hoped. It was nice running into someone who was willing to go out of his way to make a difference.

"If you need to go, my coworkers are around here somewhere." It was busy enough that they could have been in the dark recesses of the... somewhere. AJ raised his glass in salute. No hard feelings if Devon already had plans. "100 days accident free. That's kind of a record with ambulances. There's no way they're not still celebrating."

The EMT fished the huge chunk of ice out of the high proof alcohol and knew it was about as sterile as he was going to get. This was the drink that all of them got when they went out. The ice was for his lip and though a drip ran down the pad of his palm, it would last long enough since it was a large chunk.

>> "Why don't you just put skittles in your paint thinner?"

Devon’s brow or half of it anyway, shot up in question at the stare but it softened. “Actually they like to infuse vodka with all sorts of things, skittles included,” he chuckled. There were drinks he preferred if only for the memory they offered, typically of certain times or seasons.

>> "If you need to go, my coworkers are around here somewhere."

Devon shook his head, “They’ve either left already or not gotten here yet. I expect the latter as they were working late.”

>> "100 days accident free. That's kind of a record with ambulances. There's no way they're not still celebrating."

“That’s great, congratulations,” Devon bowed his head as he took a sip of his drink. Seeing AJ wanted to keep the ice on his lip Devon figured going on a bit about his original plan would be well received. “I am supposed,” he drew out the word, “to meet some people who’ve been buying up the property around here. Crime may be down, which is excellent, but I want to be sure long term residents don’t get pushed out, let alone some people could use some help from those turning a big profit on the community. They had said they’d work late but they wanted to go out and celebrate too.”

His phone was in his other hand as he raised it. No messages. Devon took another sip as he shrugged his shoulders and put the phone away. “If they don’t come out, I can always schedule something formally. I was just hoping to grab them sooner rather than later,” he nodded. Because even social time had become work time…

“Your reason to celebrate is far better. I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Devon shook his head. “You don’t need me hovering,” he smiled gently.

AJ gave him a perfectly serviceable exit. If he'd wanted it, he would have taken it. Right? But he didn't. So now AJ was worried he'd sounded like he was trying to brush Devon off. As he spoke, AJ checked his lip and dropped the ice back into his drink so that the melting run off didn't completely soak the sleeve of his shirt.

Buying up property? Oh, no. Not Devon. Someone else. AJ sipped his drink and felt the burn uniquely sizzle on his lip. It burned the rest of the way down too, but in a much less biting way. The whiskey was smooth. So it wasn't the alcohol that nearly made him spit his drink. Devon was such a big deal that he even got a say in who bought what where? What kind of psychiatry was he into?

"Err. Do you live around here?" This part of town wasn't dumpy exactly, but it used to have some warehouses before some fires wrecked the area. It just wasn't what AJ expected. "The community around here's been through a lot considering the number of times calls came out. For sure." But... what? Was he secret mayor or something?

He took another sip to brace himself because this man was at a bar for business and now AJ was getting the brush off? Nah.

"You're going to schedule... or reschedule." He was fuzzy on which way actually applied there, but tried not to let it throw him off. "Because the night is young. The music is... retro." He hadn't actually noticed until that moment. Was that an EDM remix of Britney Swords' Toxic? "There's a whole world out there begging you to let down your hair for half a second, Devon." Looking out on the dance floor, it looked busy but not so packed that there wasn't room for a few more.

"You've got something to celebrate too, y'know?"

He was tempted to spread it far and wide even if it was obnoxious to talk about getting picked on. "You stopped an assault and battery, and, you got a fantastic wingman for the evening if you want one." There were a few people in their orbit just waiting for the right body language or verbal invitation.

He was here to celebrate. So he aimed to celebrate.