Good to know, Zephyr's just really oblivious.

He's... not actually surprised by his own failures on that front.

He leans over, rests his forehead on the table with a brisk thump. "Yeah," he says. "Same."

The soul of eloquence.

But they have been drinking, and the night is no longer young, and Zephyr honestly doesn't know what the hell he wants, here and now. "Ask me again another time," he says into the table, sounding more pathetic than he means to.