More often than not, Brandon had a tough time keeping his mouth shut. Kelley'd always called it his “lack of a bullshit filter,” and honestly, that was a safe way to categorize it. He didn't take any shit, and likewise, he didn't like to dish any out. Give what you get, get what you give, whatever that phrase was... it fit Brandon's personal philosophy.
For now, though, and not without a fuckload of effort on his part, he'd kept his mouth shut about whatever Alghren and Silas had going on. But there was a reason he hadn't immediately jumped to that particular gossip rumor's defense and tried to cut down its merit. Alghren's reputation preceded her. Hell, she'd only been with Zimmerman for a couple fucking months before she got knocked up, so what did that say about her?
When Silas came into view, against his volition, his eyes went to the cast. Quickly, and hopefully before his friend noticed, he pulled them away and raised his other arm to pull his friend into one of those handshake-hug things. He snorted a laugh and nodded his gratitude when his friend pointed out the gifts he'd chosen. “Fuckin' right I want it. As if I'm ever gonna turn down a brew, bro,” he mused. He looked at the three bottles on the table, then back at Silas. “You get two of these. Other one goes to Reg,” he pointed out. “Got another bottle of Jack for him back in storage, too.”
Brandon watched him pick up the glass and chuckled. “Merry Christmas bro. Which one d'you want, I'll fill you up.” He barely bit back a question about Silas being willing to see things his way now, but for now, he did.