"Me too," I tell him, gently patting his head like I would with Puff or Saoirse. I'm not drunk, so I don't have an excuse to, but I do it anyway. I squeeze his shoulder a moment and then let go. It's as close to a hug as we'll probably get right now.

"I can't even think straight," I admit, swirling the liquid in my glass again, staring down at it. "Back home Simon was always getting into one thing or another. The Humdrum would send dark creatures after him, or worse, one time, at the end of our last school year, the Humdrum grabbed Simon and his friend. Took them somewhere like it was nothing. He survived, of course. He always does. I used to comfort myself in the fact that nothing could really hurt him. He seemed untouchable, the strongest mage of our time. There were fucking prophesies about him. But now? I don't think they extend to Darrow. He's mortal, just like anyone..."

I trail off, rambling myself into a dead end. I'm not even sure what I was getting at. I take another drink, a long one.