And he does, her cheeks flushed with cold despite the warm scarf wrapped around her neck and matching mittens on her hands (a much appreciated Satinalia gift). Wagner is walking very nicely with her, as if he senses the occasion. He still tries to lunge toward Loki the moment he sees him anyway because they are friends; at least his owner has the muscles to match, and can haul him to her heel without any extra effort.
Her left arm is no longer in a sling, but is still stiff, especially in the cold. She keeps the hand tucked into her pocket to remind herself to take it easy.
"Hey." She's breathless, but happy enough, "Fuck, it's cold out here. I want ale."
He notes the lack of sling, her flushed cheeks, and grins as he holds the door open for them both (plus Wagner, who gets a very direct pat upon the head as he passes; Loki gets a handful of wet puppy slobber almost immediately afterward for his trouble). "Then ale you will have." Inside they go, and he finds them a place to sit where he can see all the doors in. "Any favorites or should I just pick something?"
Ale is ale is ale, Abby doesn't care. She's more concerned with making sure Wags has found a spot underneath of the table. He's come to sit between her knees, and soon he leans up solidly against her leg while she degloves, and unwinds the scarf from her neck with a shiver, looking around.
Busy in here. She counts exits, and appreciates the spot he's picked.
They're seated, and settled, and Loki notes the mabari under the table as he gets one of the staff's attention and orders a citrus-flavored ale for the both of them.
It is busy, and a little loud by his tastes, but their drinks arrive quickly so he's not going to complain. "Is there usually much celebration of birthdays, back home?"
Wagner gets a small pet to the muzzle for his affections, and then Loki wipes his hands on a handkerchief from his pocket. Because now his fingers are wet, too. Again.
"Some people I take not to include you?" He wonders if it's an apocalypse that Sylvie ever encountered. Probably. There were so many and she'd been on the run for so long...
He takes a sip of his ale, frowns. "...shit, I think I forgot mine."
"I had other people to make a big deal on my behalf." Friends, who used to sing loudly in the mess hall just to embarrass her in front of the entire faction. She smiles in memory of it. It's only a little bit wistful, and sad.
Another big gulp, before she asks, grin becoming wider, truer, "Aren't you a thousand years old or something? No wonder you forgot."
He raises his eyebrows. So it's okay if her old friends did it, but not the new?
That's acceptable, actually.
"Something like that." Loki takes another drink, thinking. "December fourteenth, in the most modern calendar I'm aware of, I think? So it would have been last month."
"Thanks." She clunks her flagon against his cheerfully, and drinks. Wags has his chin resting on her knee under the table. She can feel him drooling on her pants, but that's okay.
A beat, in which she lets the alcohol simmer on her tongue before she swallows, and then she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and says, "We're friends, right?"
"As far as I know." A joke, definitely. "Yes, we're friends." If he has anything to say about it. "Why?" He tilts his head a little bit. "Do you need something from a friend?"
She shakes her head, and slips her hand underneath of the table to rub the side of Wags' muzzle. He mouths at her fingers, and ends up chewing two of them contentedly; Abby makes a funny face when he bites her knuckle a little harder than he probably means to.
"Um." A moment, in which she's sorting out the dog, then, "No, I justβ wanted to make sure."
She answers immediately, abruptly realising how awful that must have sounded, "Yeah."
Shit. She mulls over a swallow of ale before continuing. "Before I came here, I lost... all of my friends?"
Yeah. Everybody, from her Salt Lake crew. Sounds a little like they had a group falling out when she puts it that way, which isn't wrong, but isn't the entire truth either. "It means a lot that you're my friend."
That... is better than he feared, honestly, from an entirely selfish point of view. But. It could mean a lot of things, losing friends. That there was a disagreement. That they died. Two very different outcomes.
"I'm glad we're friends. Prior to you I've had... one... friend of my own?" Nosewrinkle. "Two, I suppose, if we count Sylvie."
When she thinks about how she's changed since she got here, it warms her up a little. She has Lev to thank for that, really. "The old me was... obsessive." A snort, when she has another drink, "She kept her gym routine up though. Kinda slipping on that front."
Old her didn't go for drinks with friends very much, though. She was missing out.
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Good, because it wasn't a question. I'll see you there.
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Her left arm is no longer in a sling, but is still stiff, especially in the cold. She keeps the hand tucked into her pocket to remind herself to take it easy.
"Hey." She's breathless, but happy enough, "Fuck, it's cold out here. I want ale."
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Ale is ale is ale, Abby doesn't care. She's more concerned with making sure Wags has found a spot underneath of the table. He's come to sit between her knees, and soon he leans up solidly against her leg while she degloves, and unwinds the scarf from her neck with a shiver, looking around.
Busy in here. She counts exits, and appreciates the spot he's picked.
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It is busy, and a little loud by his tastes, but their drinks arrive quickly so he's not going to complain. "Is there usually much celebration of birthdays, back home?"
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Abby has a big gulp of her drink, and a brief sour note makes her smack her lips and look at the amber liquid with a raised brow. "That's nice.
Yeah. Some people like making a big deal out of it." A shrug, "Apocalypse."
Every new year is hard won, so.
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"Some people I take not to include you?" He wonders if it's an apocalypse that Sylvie ever encountered. Probably. There were so many and she'd been on the run for so long...
He takes a sip of his ale, frowns. "...shit, I think I forgot mine."
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Another big gulp, before she asks, grin becoming wider, truer, "Aren't you a thousand years old or something? No wonder you forgot."
Just another day, right? "When is it?"
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That's acceptable, actually.
"Something like that." Loki takes another drink, thinking. "December fourteenth, in the most modern calendar I'm aware of, I think? So it would have been last month."
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"Huh." She's grinning, "So I'm one month younger than you exactly."
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"Looking pretty good for over a thousand, there, Abby." He raises his flagon to her in a silent toast.
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A beat, in which she lets the alcohol simmer on her tongue before she swallows, and then she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and says, "We're friends, right?"
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"Um." A moment, in which she's sorting out the dog, then, "No, I justβ wanted to make sure."
It sounds stupid out loud.
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They're friends. It was easy to say, because it's true. But...
Finally: "Is that okay? That we're friends?"
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Shit. She mulls over a swallow of ale before continuing. "Before I came here, I lost... all of my friends?"
Yeah. Everybody, from her Salt Lake crew. Sounds a little like they had a group falling out when she puts it that way, which isn't wrong, but isn't the entire truth either. "It means a lot that you're my friend."
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That... is better than he feared, honestly, from an entirely selfish point of view. But. It could mean a lot of things, losing friends. That there was a disagreement. That they died. Two very different outcomes.
"I'm glad we're friends. Prior to you I've had... one... friend of my own?" Nosewrinkle. "Two, I suppose, if we count Sylvie."
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"Really? But you're so likable."
It's teasing, but there's a note of genuine curiousity in there. She finds him very agreeable.
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He leans back a bit and takes another drink.
"The old me was spoiled and megalomaniacal." Raised eyebrows. "Not the bastion of friendship that sits before you now."
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When she thinks about how she's changed since she got here, it warms her up a little. She has Lev to thank for that, really. "The old me was... obsessive." A snort, when she has another drink, "She kept her gym routine up though. Kinda slipping on that front."
Old her didn't go for drinks with friends very much, though. She was missing out.