"It wouldn't have killed him!” Adrian whined. “Between friends, what's a little permanent maiming going to do to a guy anyway? People can live without their faces. What they can’t go without though, is their pinky toe. Who would’ve thought such a small thing like that would actually be so important?”

It would've been awesome — reenacting that one cool scene he saw in ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ back a couple of years ago. But instead of channeling his inner Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he’s wiping blood off his machete with a spare cloth while casually standing on Evergreen’s cracked sidewalks. Typically, this would have been another day in the life of fighting crime as the one (and only) awesome badass that is Vigilante — but the suit that he’d been tailing uninvited lately had been such a downer on his playbook.

Who knew that other heroes with a bullshit 'no killing' code had included ‘no dismemberment’ in the rules too? Apparently, permanent mangling of another living creature was clearly a gray area that was off-limits. Maybe he could change that. Heavy on that maybe, though.

He’s answered with an absolutely judgmental stare and a huff, before the object of his latest heroic admiration turned to briskly stomp down the street away from him — the thud of their boots gave way to frustration.

"Hey, wait up!" he called out, following behind while tripping over his own two feet with all the bumbling and eager grace only a puppy could muster. "Where are you going? You've been ignoring all of my calls and texts lately. Are you okay? Are you mad at me? I think you should know that I'm really, really bad at reading other people's faces and body language!"

Despite lacking in the uptake of basic social interactions and etiquette, Adrian’s pretty in tune with himself. Mostly. He’d been on his own for four years without Chris having his back and all, and he hasn't kicked the bucket just yet. No one can really compare to Peacemaker, but the dynamic shared with his new pal is different. Unique even, with a certain je ne sais quoi that makes his heart flutter, and his mind race from something other than the usual adrenaline rush when he’s out murking bad guys.

If only he could stop overthinking and confess how he actually feels. That’s infinitely better than beating himself up for not speaking up like he’s been doing recently. But every night on patrol together had so far been the same, his new buddy didn’t even seem minutely curious about why he was so adamant on spending so much time together. Putting blatantly obvious ethical differences aside, who’s the actual slow one between the two of them again?