He knew that the Stormbringer was there, circling around not too far away like some kind of silent sentry watching him… trying not to have a mental breakdown because he was planning something.

Something—well, the last time the world came to a head was when that meteor came screaming towards everything they knew.

And they’d gotten out of that alive. Shaken, but alive.

But now? With the very real threat of war hanging over everyone’s heads, and that stupid edict on the posters that made absolutely no sense at all?

He turned to face the green-and-purple blur that had just passed him.

“I’ve made up my mind.”

He wondered how Guillermo Marceliño was going to take this, what he was thinking of doing next. The plans were already there—all he had to do was to stop being a fucking terrified, incapable idiot of a human being to put them into action.

He had to secure their future together.

“I’m going to ask Memo for his hand in marriage.”

The Tornadus would stop his quiet wandering; staring over at this crazy human he was accompanying.

“And nothing’s going to stop me.”

Let’s take ‘another sleepless night with Tornadus’ for $1,000, Alex.

The sheer irony of yet another sleepless night was staring at him again—and even though he was tempted to not spike the hot chocolate with some alcohol, the intrusive thoughts won and he now had a container full of hot chocolate with just one… two… several shots of vodka mixed into it.

Yes, the sleepless nights were increasing in frequency—but he always made sure to crawl back into bed before his little spoon noticed that he wasn’t physically there and had a royal freak out.

The Wandering Stormbringer was out again, but wasn’t moving around like his usual; in fact the djinni was just… hovering in one place, staring at him pour a cup of the spiked hot chocolate before…

“How does a pacifist deal when war is coming? Normally they’d run, or get out of the blast zone as fast as possible. But… this is Fortree, you know?”

He would take a sip before tilting his head back and staring at the starless, cloudless evening sky. The Nincada were making their annoying chirping be heard—summer was really here, wasn’t it?

“Thing is, I’m pretty sure the League doesn’t—” he would fall silent, keeping the rest of the thoughts to himself. Besides, he was in the vast minority at this point.

“I also want to protect those I care about. But the thing is. You know how I’m sick, right? So that leaves melee combat out of the equation for me. You… you think I should pick up archery again?”

He would drain the contents of the cup before pouring himself another serving; empowered by the ‘liquid courage’ he’d mixed into the comfort drink.

“If only magic existed!” he grumbled a few moments after, taking another sip.

“I know you can’t talk back, but… thank you for listening. I… that means a lot to me.”