Duck doesn't make a lot of trips to the fire station- it's not really something he tends to focus on- He's not exactly the sort to ask for any sort of emergency service even when he needs it- but, in the wake of so many deaths, and his newfound ability to get around a little better without having to numb out the ache in his knee with moonshine, he figures he should at least check in with his little brother- only crossing paths at their mom's place tended to end in one of them getting roped into doing something around the house, after all. But it's not Duck who heralds his arrival, no, that's Robin, the little boy still wearing his backpack from school as he charges into the firehouse, inhales, and bellows an: "UNCLE NICKY!" to state his arrival.
"Robbie, buddy, inside voice, Christ." His brother had been kind enough to watch him for Duck's birthday, which had, inevitably, meant that Duck got to listen to Robin go on and on about honking the fire truck horn for days after. "Hey, Nicky. Sorry about him, told him I was swinging by after I got him from school to check in and thank you for watching him the other night and he uh. Well, demanded I let him come and when I said 'i won't be there long and it'll be boring grown up talk' he started asking me horribly invasive questions about why I keep having strangers over- so we're here together, yaaaay!" He looks... happier despite the ever-present sarcasm. Has for a minute- and the once-constant smell of liquor and weed is gone- replaced with his usual cologne. "Figured I'd swing by without ma hanging around, actually manage a conversation without 'er trying t' talk one of us into cleanin' her gutters or somethin."
@firecaptainphoenix