When she started to freeze up, Booth looked down at her and he was ready to back off. Was it a bad movement at the wrong time? But then she seemed to warm up to the idea and he offered her a tiny smile of his own. Though it was a little strained. He couldn't even properly fake happiness these days. Since the thing with him and Buffy, happiness was hard to come by. His son brought him some comfort, but other then that he really was just running on auto pilot. Work, complex issues, demons, security, work, beer. That was what his schedule had been for the last few days. And add between that the poor attempts to breathe, and he was worn down.
He held up a finger for the bar tender to come around and bring his friend a drink. Just one finger was a signal for tap, or draft, and so Booth was glad e didn't even have to speak to the man. Speaking had been difficult for him lately. Coming up with words that weren't bitter, or angry, or just all around hurt. He'd done so much to help prevent the apocalypse but in the long run he wasn't even sure it mattered for him.
Seeley was still going to die, and now he was virtually convinced he was going to end up doing it alone..the worst part is, he wasn't so sure it was a bad thing. Nobody would have to miss him, or be upset when he was gone, and nobody would have to worry. It was just better for them.
"As long as they keep my scotch coming, I'm a happy camper. "He lied. This wasn't about him, "But you on the other hand, look like someone kicked your puppy. Talk to me." Booth was putting up walls, he knew it..but he needed to for the sake of his sanity, or the sadness he felt through his soul would just never stop.