Avery's mouth felt like cotton and in his head was a marching band, but his heart was thumping and he felt- good? Was this good? He'd wanted it real bad last night, he knew that. Them and all the other people waiting in the line for that spur of the moment Vegas wedding experience. Them and their load of cash from the casino (thousands of dollars!) and Lyra's epic Irish luck.
They'd gotten married in a Vegas chapel and their witnesses were other people doing the same thing, by a woman celebrant dressed as Elvis ("It has to be Elvis," Lyra had insisted. "It's the only way. Live your authentic Las Vegas truth, Aves!") There was a cheap ring on his finger.
Forget just his mother. His whole family was going to flip the fuck out.
"It was A Night," he agreed, just as raspy, as Lyra (his wife HIS WIFE -whoooooohhhhh deep breaths Avery Tristan) leaned against him. He was scared of the enormity of this, and yet, there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he moved his arm to put it around Lyra's shoulders.
He only hoped Past Avery had been kind and left out some painkillers and Powerade for Future Avery's poor head.