The cheerful grin and snarky joke the Canadian made about being old only drew a chuckle from the yuppie; compared to the cold imperiousness of the other Victor, the massive blond was indeed pleasant company.
"Great stuff, huh?" he responded in cocaine-quickened syllables when the taller man praised the icecream. "Well, you don't have to be the big hero. Just kick back, relax, enjoy life not being on the run and maybe save some kittens from trees once in a while, you'll do fine," Bobby replied to Victor's rambling.
The icecream carton lay empty; the brown-haired cryokinetic's phone shook in his pocket. He removed it and quickly scanned the text message. He pouted slightly. "Damn, I need to get going. The bakery near my office may run out of cronuts if I sleep in," he said. "But you know what Vic?" he continued, "I like you. If you ever get to Manhattan, drop in. I can't guarantee cronuts though, they vanish fast."