It wasn't mature, the digs Brandon took, but he couldn't help it. Disapproval was something that he found it impossible not to voice. And no, he wasn't sure the extent of Silas' thing with Rae, but any thing with her was too much. Still, as he was nothing if not a man of his word (or silent action, as it were), he didn't say anything else. He just took a quiet sip of his drink and nodded in response to Regan's subtle reply. “Yeah. Women pretty much run the world, don't they? We're pretty much fucked.” He paused. “And not always in the happy fun way, either,” he added.
“No, just my way of saying life sucks more now than it used to.” And that wasn't an exaggeration. “'Course I've never been good with words or whatever, but you know.” It was Regan's prerogative to talk as much as he wanted to. Brandon never had and never would get married, so he didn't know what it was like to lose someone you cared about enough to marry. “But you'll be alright. If you're not, I'll kick your ass.” Simple enough, and spoken with a smirk so Regan knew that he was kidding.
Putting on an expression that just dripped with 'well, if you're too chicken,' Brandon nodded his head. “That was more or less what I was trying to do, yeah,” he mused. “What better way to cheer your ass up than to have you harass some teenagers? Like that one night when we were patrolling downtown Brooklyn and those kids were fucking with the girl, remember?” They hadn't said a word. Just walked around a corner and looked at the kids. One look at Brandon and Regan in their blues, and the kids had gone running.
“But if you've gone soft in your old age, well, I guess we'll just have to let them be,” he taunted.