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[ Ephemera pushes the door open a touch wider, but doesn’t come in. He leans against the doorframe instead, watching Drake. Wondering what he’s supposed to say.

There’s blood under his nails. Paint, too. ]

You okay?

[ That's as worrying as his voice, honestly. Drake is quiet for a long moment, then breathes out and gets up from bed. Ephemera doesn't look hurt, but there's something in his good eye that's haunted and suffering.

He comes over slowly, like he doesn't want to startle Ephemera away, and reaches up to wipe a smudge of paint off his cheek. ]

I think I should be asking you that. What's wrong?

[ Ephemera just closes his eyes and breathes out. He’s drunk and he doesn’t flinch, but the whole moment has a dreamlike quality to it. Like it’s happening to someone else.

Drake’s hand is real, though. Isn’t it? ]

I didn’t kill him.

[ And there are entirely too many people that could apply to right now. ]

[ Ephemera is very drunk. Drake can smell it as much as tell from his voice and eye, but he's letting that go for now. Just molding his hand to Ephemera's face and staying calm, because that's what he needs to be. It's shockingly easy with Ephemera -- he's never been scared of the other man. Only worried, like he is now. His question is simple to start. The complicated one can come next. ]

Who?

[ He leans into the touch. It's real, he's fairly certain. Or if he's not, then he's dreaming. ]

York...

[ It comes out more tired than anything else. ]

[ York. Not one of the ones Drake knows well, he was only in Hadriel for that one event but he'd seemed like a good guy. Helped bring Freelancer down, right? Is that why..? No, he shouldn't guess. Ephemera's right in front of him. ]

Come on, let's go sit down.

[ He wraps an arm around the other man's shoulders and leads him back out to the couch, sitting close and taking one of his blood and paint stained hands. ]

Can you tell me why, or is that why you're like this now?

[ It’s hard to focus, to remember what he’d intended when he knocked on Drake’s door. Ephemera just exhales and goes with it, goes where Drake directs him. Drake puts an arm around him, takes one of Ephemera’s hands in his own.

There’s blood under his jails, Ephemera thinks absently. And a knife still up his sleeve. Drake can probably feel the lines of the sheath.

Ephemera shakes his head. ]

He wouldn’t fight back.

[ Oh. That's... interesting. He squeezes Ephemera's hand and nods. ]

...I can understand that.

[ Both sides, actually, but he's pretty sure York didn't know that passivity is the key to stopping a fight with Ephemera. ]

What are you feeling?

Drunk.

[ Ephemera twitches. Closes his eyes. The moment feels both too distance and entirely too heavy to bear. ]

I don’t know.

[ Drake takes a moment to study Ephemera, sitting there against his side with his eyes closed. Sure, he's drunk, but he doesn't sound angry..? ]

It's just grief, isn't it?

[ Sometimes the truth hits him like a blade. Twists in sharp and rips him to pieces.

Ephemera twitches. He squeezes Drake's hand. ]

I miss them. It hurts.

I know.

[ Gently, he pulls Ephemera tighter in against his side for a hug, touching their foreheads. ]

You're not alone, okay? And you shouldn't feel like you failed at anything because you didn't kill him.

[ It hits him strange. Even after all this time, the grief cuts in deep. Catches him unaware. Ephemera rocks forward, biting back a sob. No, he thinks. No, don't be gentle. I can't. I can't, I -

He realizes, belatedly, that he said the last part out loud. Ephemera shakes his head mutely and then gives in and just presses his face into Drake's shoulder to hide. As he weeps. ]

[ Oh... Drake breathes out, then lets go of Ephemera's hand to cradle his head protectively instead. Holding him gentle but firm, stroking his back, just letting him get some of it out. Sometimes that's all you can do, he thinks.

It isn't until the other man has seemed to exhaust himself that he says anything again, voice low and soft, murmuring into Ephemera's hair. ]

Can't what, babe?

[ It goes on like that for a while and then, eventually, it ends Ephemera slumps against Drake, feeling nothing but the hollow drag of exhaustion. He's drunk. He used to like being drunk. Now it's a means to an end.

Fuck.

He shivers. ]

This. With them - here.

[ Drake rests his chin on top of Ephemera's head, holding him close. While he's this drunk might be a bad time to try and talk through it, but sooner is always better. He decides they might as well try. ]

Yeah you can. I know you can. Tell me what happened?

[ How do you put that to words? Ephemera shivers, his good eye screwed tight. He can feel a headache building. Pulsing in his skull. Ruining him. But Drake is steady and solid, and Ephemera can hear his heartbeat.

Steady. At least one thing is. ]

Didn't know who he was. Didn't check. Thought he was just...a soldier from back home.

[ He's coherent, that's good. Drake would like to get some water and painkillers into him, but if he's talking right now they should get to the bottom of this. ]

And after you found out? What did you feel?

[ That part's easy. Ephemera twitches, face still hidden against Drake's shoulder. His voice is muffled. But he can still manage words, so.

That's something. ]

Angry. Wanted to kill him.

[ He's managing. Drake's just doing his best to walk him through it, unravel what's surely a tangled mess of emotions right now. ]

Why didn't you? Why does it matter if he fights back?

[ There’s a long moment of quiet. Then: ]

Have to be lines.

[ Even with vengeance. ]

[ That's simple, Drake thinks. But he's about to ask about something that isn't. ]

And why wouldn't he fight?

[ Yeah. That. Ephemera takes a shaky breath. Lets it go. ]

Said -

[ Even now, he wants it to have been a trick. Even now, he has a horrible feeling that it wasn't. ]

Said I was hurting enough.

[ That sits between them for a moment, Drake considering what he knows about York and from who. What the likelihood is he was being genuine. In the end he just doesn't know enough to make that call, but he might try and talk to the guy about this. ]

I never met him. York, I mean. I don't know if he's the type to try and manipulate you, but he's definitely not wrong.

[ He hesitates, then takes a breath and adds something else. ]

I did meet Hunter once, did I ever mention that?

[ Ephemera goes very still. For a moment, he barely breathes. ]

...no. He was - he was alive?

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