[ There it is again, the hesitation he'd noted that time he'd offered to replay the movie, offering a seat so that he could share a film he'd loved since he was a kid to someone he respected and counted as a friend.

He sends Rethe a look at that: quiet smile, a little bit of a c'mon, man in his eyes. ] We can split it.

I've... [ he looks askance, sheepish again, because he'll never get used to having so much, and his default is to share his blessings with people he cares about -- since he's known what it's like to have so little and to wish that he'd had even a bit more to spare. ] You know me. I've never had much, Rethe.

And, [ softly now, looking down at his beer -- a simple Corona with a lemon tossed in, ] you played a couple of songs up there that had good memories for me.

[ Home, his boys, the girl on the ledge he'd talked back into trying, to giving living a chance. No matter how shitty things got. ]