A brow quirks. “Ya know of the two of us who SHOULD be fucking with this thing, probably the guy who can’t die.”

“Look I’m not exactly a fucking FAN, it doesn’t feel GOOD, but if this thing pops off and decides one of us is worm food, I’d rather it not be you.” Look. Simon’s got the skills to handle himself. And it. But y’know…still. “We work it together.”

Luca slips his hand into Simon’s, fingers loosely lacing as he steps in and tips his head up to kiss the point of his chin. “Can’t keep beating yourself up over that, amore.”

“I trust you,” he says roughly, tipping to bump his head against a shoulder. “Know it’s not enough for you sometimes, but figure it might be worth saying out loud.”

T E D D Y.

Motor pool.

Few hours.

What?

Drinking m’self t’ death, mostly.

Probably won’t actually bite it, don’t have much going on if I do.

[ Complaining groan, but limping over to wrap his arms around the Teddy. Biiiig squeeze. ]

Nawh. Not this time, anyway. [ Squish. Squish squish. And pulling back, awkwardly patting shoulders. ] Just been occupied.

Thought that was yer whole thing. Knowing shit or whatever the fuck. Sorry. Next time..?

Whatever the fuck, got it. Good t’see you too. Now get rid of the chemical cocktail.

[ Shoulder-clap. Little jostle. ] Proud of you.

Good I did. You’d puke it up or go bouncing off the rooftops or some fuckin’ thing. [ Grunt. ] Parts delivery. Bribing for treads. Tryin’ to, anyway.

[ EYEBALLING WIGGLY FINGERS— ] Uh. Spares. Replacement bits for a clutch, some kid with the wildest yellow eyes hit me up for old radio shit, uh… [ Thinking. Creasing brows. ]

Yeah. I mean. I’m just screwing around, trade for things that are harder for me to find just to trade it to some other dickhead.

If that’s what y’wanna call it.

Living.