Crisis averted. Regan was relieved when the topic of conversation shifted away from who Silas was spending time with, and he had to laugh at Brandon’s remark about women running the world. “Isn’t that the truth,” he muttered, his expression sobering a bit at his friend’s second remark. Regan didn’t think he’d be enjoying that activity anyone anytime soon, but he could still see the humor in it. “Women rule the world and just let us live in it.” That was something Soli used to say sometimes, though she had always been joking.
He wasn’t a person who got overly sentimental or anything, but Regan was finding he was damn thankful to have friends like Brandon and Silas while he was dealing with all of this crap. Letting out a short laugh at Brandon’s ‘warning’, he knew it was a joke, but somehow it was oddly comforting to know that he had people who’d force him to get out of this funk if he really needed it. “You could try to kick my ass, but you know you would fail.” In reality Regan didn’t really have any idea if that was true or not, he and Brandon weren’t necessarily prone to fighting the same way Brandon and Silas were.
“And I’m not an idiot drunk,” Okay, so there was that one time he forgot where his apartment was, but that didn’t count. He knew that was just Silas’ way of attempt to lighten the mood as well.
Backing down from a challenge was not in Regan’s nature, especially not one set in front of him by his two closest friends. “Alright, alright, I’m taking the semi-childish dare, okay.” He held his hands up in surrender, though he was smirking. “Pretty sure one of those kids had a heart attack that night,” he mused, remembering that night back in Brooklyn fairly well. “And don’t forget how the girl almost threw herself at you man,” That had been a sight, the girl had maybe been nineteen but that hadn’t stopped her from fawning all over Brandon like one of those thankful damsels in distress.
“Old, who the fuck are you calling old?” Regan quirked an eyebrow, pushing away from the bar and sliding off the stool. “Get ready to hand over the booze when I get back here,” and with that he was moving down the bar towards the teenagers. The conversation wasn’t long, maybe five minutes at most, and soon Regan was moving back towards his friends. “I think the blonde kid may end up having post traumatic stress from that.” He commented as he slide back into his seat.