I meet his amber eyes, and he gives me another half-smile to show that he’s kidding. I never find the humor in these jokes, and maybe that’s why he keeps it up. Anyway, I’ve grown used to this fucking nonchalant offer of alcohol, and I’ve never seen him as healthy as he’s been in the past year. If we flashed back to Paris at that bar, I think the Loren Hale today would shake himself for taking a drink and giving me one. In fact, I know he would. If that’s not strength, then I don’t fucking know what is.
