A flame is rendered Cal's cigarette is lit with a flourish and now both he and Nate can enjoy the relaxing effects of nicotine. It's a welcome distraction between their fingers, wisps of bitter smoke reaching up to the ceiling fan and getting caught and dispelled.
"We are." Nate answers for both him and his spouse to be. It's such a lucky thing really, that they know. That it's one less thing to be worried about. In many ways it's a mercy that neither was there to experience the maddening uncertainty that comes with quarantine.
Bode hasn't been bitten. Cal hasn't.
He doesn't like those odds. He hopes it never comes to that.
The happy thoughts are dampened and a whisky splotch thrown down his throat is just the thing he needs to wash this news down. He sets the empty shot glass down and switched the cigarette from one hand to the other.
"Maybe you're just unappetizing. We can hope." He throws an arm around Bunny. He needs contact with something he loves, someone warm and comforting. "We're just delicious is all. Swatch at her? Do you blame 'em for wantin' to take a bite?"