With one eyebrows raised, Regan just gave Silas a look after his mumbled response. It was nice to know that even after a handful of months that some things hadn’t changed. It was comforting and reassuring, two things that he needed more than he wanted to admit.
“You call that bitching?” Regan shot back, though his words had no real bite to them. “And I believe you’re actually the owner of that crown.” He added as he shifted his attention between his two friends. “Now, see, that I need proof of,” in reality he did believe that Brandon’s niece was likely the one person who would never manage to get under his friend’s skin. Sooner or later he would need to man up and go visit Leah’s little girl, but for the moment he was going to keep his distance. Maybe he would meet her when he and Leah started working on the memorial for Soli.
The expression on Regan’s face was going for unamused, but even he knew it fell short, very short. “You know it’s never wise to swipe a man’s booze,” he pointed out, laughing at the antics of his two best friends. Fuck, this was exactly what he had needed to feel even remotely normal again. “Apparently you did the talking, but Silas here didn’t exactly do the listening portion of that.” Regan pointed out with a smirk, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs out in front of him.
Fuck. How had he managed to let that get out. In one fell swoop it would seem Regan had sobered all three of them up.
“Yeah,” his response was quiet, and he was doing his damnedest not to slip that introspective quiet mode he seemed to venture into whenever Soli was mentioned. “It shouldn’t have happened,” if he had gotten there sooner maybe Sol would still be alive. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Regan knew he was venturing down a dangerous road and tonight wasn’t about moping. “To be entirely honest, I think that sister of yours is going to be doing everything. Because let’s be honest here, Soli would be horrified if I was left in charge. She always did say I had horrible tastes.” It still hurt saying things like that, but in time he hoped it wouldn’t.
Regan propped his elbows on the table, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “Except take care of the friends and family we’ve still got here,” he muttered, lifting his head to look up at his two friends. “But enough of this grim shit. Tonight is about drinking and not moping.” Because he had done enough of that in the past couple of days.