"It's time to go, lad. My wallet's more drained than—" Henry paused mid-sentence, his eyes narrowing as he watched on from afar.

Glimmers of light were caught by tears rolling down Aden's cheeks, leaving moist streaks in their wake. Gentle snores rose from his pal's throat, his eyelashes resting against reddened cheeks.

It's been quite a while since I saw you shed tears, little one, he thought to himself, his authentic self peeking out from behind his everyday routine.

Callie watched the pair of them, worry swimming within the confines of her hazel irises. Her gaze snapped Henry out of his thoughts, reminding him of the duty he still had to carry out.

Aden groaned as his friend delicately wedged him away from the table, helping him stand to his feet before walking out of the small bar. A momentary lapse in his judgment brought Henry's eyes to the little white carriage sitting nearby. He shook his head.

I'll have to come back for it…

That was fine. The taxi didn't take long to arrive and, even in the fall, the air wasn't too cold. Though winter was definitely close behind. Thankfully, when the black carriage pulled up to the curb, it was an actual man driving it. The distrustful Irishman wasn't keen on self-driving carriages and tended to arrange multiple vehicles before finally getting one with a real driver.

"1576 Eastwoods street, thank you, sir," Henry directed as he buckled Aden into the taxi.

The driver didn't say anything as the drops from Aden's eyes continued to fall, silent under the soothing hum of the car. Henry was far more acquainted with the pain his friend shed than he generally let on. Agony conveying a lifetime's worth of heartache and loneliness. Yes…Henry comprehended that well.

As the driver pulled into the apartment complex's parking lot, Henry tenderly woke Aden, gingerly pulling his friend out of the carriage. "If you could just wait a wee moment, sure would be appreciated," he requested.

The driver grunted in acknowledgment of the request, throwing the contraption into park before lighting a cigar.

Henry nodded respectfully. "Thanks, lad."

"Course. Y'all training to be heroes. Ain't no man gonna disrespect the man that may be savin' their lives later," he tipped his hat in his own respect.

Henry looked down and realized that he still had his fire vest on, and Aden was still wearing his shirt from earlier that morning. "It's appreciated, sir."

The driver smiled, a puff of smoke curling out his window as Henry walked his friend to the looming apartment complex not far off. They had some trouble getting up the stairs but somehow managed. As always, Aden's door was unlocked—a terrible habit of the fool—and his house was tidier than a bored housewife's.

Henry helped Aden navigate the unit until they finally ended up in the humble room. Not much was here. A dresser, two side tables on either side of a simple-framed bed. A few comic posters were hanging on the wall, but those weren't things he'd bought for himself. They were the two Henry had gotten him. One from last year's Christmas party, the first time the two men had met, and the other from July earlier in the year for Aden's birthday.

Henry had been lucky with the first gift, but learning of Aden's superhero obsession led him to another great gift later on.

A tired sniffle returned Henry's attention to the young man hanging on his shoulder. With careful hands, the Irishman lowered Aden onto a bed that seemed to eat him, his body sinking low into the mattress. Henry covered him with a thick comforter before grabbing a tissue and wiping away the few tears that still fell.

"You got a lot more to you than meets the eye. Try and get some rest, Aden. We got ourselves a heavy hitter tomorrow." With that, Henry made sure he had Aden's car keys and left, locking the door behind him as his friend suffered his memories in the dark.