For just a moment, he thought he saw a sign of the old Cass there, a hint of his happy-go-lucky self. But it was quickly gone. Miles had never seen him so readily accept a drink before, but it was a good sign that he at least wasn't going to be hexed.
He poured two more shots, raising his glass. Any sort of toast would seem rather trite now, and he merely clinked glasses with Cass. "Drink up. I was saving this bottle for Monty for his birthday, but if the bastard is going to stay in Italy, well, I'm not sending something this good over there." He tried at least to break the frosty ice that was sitting between them, hoping something could help give them a semblance of normal interaction.