Parties in Jackson were always... complicated.Different survi vors, different cultures, different ideas of what a “celebration” should look like — and, naturally, tensions always ran high. Tommy had just delivered what might’ve been the best speech of his life. He let himself fall next to you, leaning against the wall.

—"Was it any good?"—he asked, eyes still scanning the room.—"Swear to God, my hands were shakin' the whole damn time. Thought they were gonna start throwin' chairs halfway through."

The tension around you both eased a little as the noise turned more festive. You sighed, when you told Tommy you wanted to help improve Jackson, you hadn’t exactly pictured this

—“Just a couple more hours.”—he said gently.—“You’re doin’ great. I appreciate it, really.”

He knew crowds weren’t your thing, so he really appreciated you being here. Then he nudged you lightly with his elbow.

—“Tell you what, after this... I’m buyin’ you a drink. Or... whatever the hell it is you drink. What d’you say?.”—You arched a brow and he chuckled.—“Never seen you touch a drop. But hey... after a day like this? Think we’ve earned one.”