Caleb settles back on the chaise and holds out my drink.
Thank you.
Happy, Neamhchiontach?
Yes. Thank you, I repeat. He could have (he actually did, at first) put up a fight against my changes but in the end I usually get my way as long as there's no glaring reason I shouldn't.
Cheers, then. That's everything I want, and it obviously could not be bought.
I told you that.
Yes, you did. He raised you well. He clinks his glass against mine as I nod.
I tried. Don't know if I spent enough time on the part about not talking to strangers but I'll work on that. Lochlan is in the doorway, glass of his own in hand. Are we celebrating finally?
Still.
He walks over and clinks both of our glasses before sitting on the edge of the chaise. I slide over to make room and he leans back against the cushions. A different dynamic of musketeers, this. A dangerous dynamic but holding for the moment or I would see flames everywhere and all there is now is the dim afterlight of a long hot day.
Happy, Peanut?
I nod. Very. Everyone keeps asking me.
You've been working hard.
We all do. Are you happy?
He nods. I thought he would hesitate but he didn't. Now we just need to keep this peace.
Caleb leans forward and clinks his glass again. To new beginnings for old familiars.
Sláinte. Lochlan returns it. Here's to everyone holding their own and everyone else's too.