As much as she’d known he’d missed her, it’s still comforting to hear it. It fuels the small pool of confidence glimmering inside her, warms her cheeks with the pleasant feeling of mutual friendship. When they finally separate, her smile has intensified, bright enough to spread light into the darkest corners of the bar. It takes her a few seconds to shimmy her way onto the barstool, and when she finally does she has to take a moment to steel herself, to remind herself that nobody was paying enough attention to her to give a shit whether she could properly mount a stool or not. “Well, what are they?” She tosses back with a grin, wondering if he can see the difference in her — if anyone could. “I meant four in total, gosh, Flynny, have mercy.” With wide eyes, she resembles a baby deer caught in the headlights, having jumped too far into the deep end to keep her head above water, and she regrets the suggestion of shots. “We can’t get too drunk or they won’t let us in! They have, like, a rule against that, right?” While she considers the suggestion, she tugs one leg over the other, smooths her dress out over the surface of her legs. “Okay, I guess…I’m down. But I’m not doing more than two shots. And our appointments in 30 minutes so we gotta be quick. Deal.” Her fingers clasp together on the surface of the bar, indented with the scratched names of former lovers, groups of friends, ghosts of past frolics. “I’ll go first…Oooh, do you like anyone right now? Like, feelings-wise. Do you have feelings for anyone? C’mon, be honest. I bet you do.”
Pulling away from the hug, Flynn caught a glimpse of Bella’s expression and a smile of similar magnitude ignited his features. He’d always naturally felt lighter around the other, the weight of his burdens seeming to inflate and rise to the ceiling like a balloon at a child’s birthday party. There was relief to be found in the presence of someone who seemed to truly understand him or at least understand what it felt like to experience soul-crushing pain. Hopping up on the barstool beside her, he smirked at her question before glancing over at her with a neutralized expression. “My first memory? Dark. Feels like I’m in a cave. There’s frantic voices and screaming. And then… I’m propelled forward, and suddenly, there’s light. I see nurses and a doctor. I’ve successfully exited the womb,” he quipped, a smirk once again settling on his mouth. The nickname had him opening his mouth, hovering his index finger inside of it, and making a gagging noise. “Flynny,” he repeated with a scrunched up nose, solidifying his distaste to his friend. “My dick is so soft it might disintegrate and fall off.” Quirking up an eyebrow at her, he gave a half-hearted shrug. “Why are you asking me? You’re the one with a tattoo,” he teased with a wink, signaling the bartender as soon as Bella gave her approval. “We’d like four shots of Patron, please.” A charming smile ornamenting his features, Flynn glanced over at Bella. “Should I ask for salt and lime too, or do you just wanna drink them straight?” Index finger tracing the indentions in the wood, he nibbled at his lower lip at the question. “I do, yeah. I have a boyfriend now, surprisingly. Sebastian Lis, that’s my man. It’s open though, so if you ever decide the longing to see me naked is too great, I'll let you if you ask nicely.” Dark eyes flicking up to meet hers, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Can I turn the question back around? Do you like anyone? I’m curious.”