[ a small, fond smile is given at freddie's antics. a hand drops to the knee that's trying to hook around his thigh. he doesn't do anything except rub his thumb lightly into the indent between bones. a thoughtful silence follows freddie's explanation, though ultimately cassidy is too tired to make sense of the logic acrobatics freddie does to justify why he doesn't get close to anyone. he has his own hoops and backflips to contend with already without figuring out someone else's. they both end up at the same place, anyway.

instead, he glances from freddie to the wall behind the counter to the part of the kitchen to his left, picturing the rest of the flat beyond it. picturing what it would be like to live here by himself, finding it lonelier than he expected. but none of them are meant to stay- in the flat, in the city. it shouldn't matter if freddie stays here or elsewhere.

as he tightens freddie's bandages, he has half a mind to reach for the whiskey again. the hand on his chest stops him, and he lifts his gaze and one of his eyebrows in unison. it's tempting to let freddie carry on, because it's far more familiar than the ground they're on now. and maybe he would, if he thought they would get anywhere. ]

Aye, someone who's not drank half their weight in tipple.

[ he wraps his hand around freddie's wrist to stay its course, and doesn't let go right away. ]

When I was a lad, the surgeon aboard my father's ship favoured sawing off limbs over any other remedy for injuries, [ he says, thinking it will distract freddie from making further attempts. ] Lose the finger to save the hand, he'd say. [ he lowers freddie's unmaimed hand to his lap and flattens it, trailing his finger down one of freddie's. ] Lose the hand to save the arm, lose the arm to save the man.

[ a smile touches his lips. a silent laugh at the memory. ]

Once, I'd gotten a splinter stuck 'neath my nail that I'd not been able to remove myself, and I swear to Christ, I was too scared to see the man, fearing he'd take the whole thing off.