Rictor/Drake/Open.
"'They'. You make it sound like I'm a captured beast, or an infant and the Hauptmann my fussy nursemaid. They keep me busy, but not too busy to make time for–" Ric's hand waved vaguely in the direction of the entire scene, the bedecked tables and well-dressed fighters, who looked vaguely incongruous when not covered in blood and mud. "–for all this. And your celebration."
His gaze followed Drake's, brow furrowing at the sight of Aspel. The aspect of family was one he didn't like prying open in public, even with friends. But Rictor cleared his throat and made an effort nonetheless. "She's the oldest. Probably gonna come in handy when she's babysitting all your asses."