He understood the question Henry was asking. Were they okay? He supposed it depended on the definition of okay. Henry’s mask was back in place so, honestly, had anything changed? Same mask as he’d been wearing, covering the same power. And the shadow was gone. And it wasn’t like that whole possessive thing should be a surprise. And fuck, Tony, stop fucking thinking so goddamned much!

It all came down to trust, really, and if he trusted Henry enough to let him open a vein and drink, then he might as well keep trusting him to not abuse the power that gave him.

Not to abuse it much, anyway.

Unwrapping his right arm from around his stomach, he gripped Henry’s cold fingers and allowed the vampire to pull him to his feet. “We’re cool.” He turned to Arra before Henry could respond. Further conversation on the topic was way more than he wanted to face. “How’s Mouse?”

She looked up, liquid continuing to dribble from a thermos cap down between Mouse’s lips. “Well, I’m no doctor, but I think his jaw’s broken.”

“Broken?”

“Interesting purple knot coming up on one side, too.” Her lip curled slightly. “You don’t know your own strength, Nightwalker.”

Tony had no need to turn to know that Henry’s lip had curled in answer.

“Yes,” he said. “I do.”

Arra’s gaze flickered between the two men, settled on Tony, and she made a speculative noise that could have referred to anything. Setting the plastic cap on the broad shelf of Mouse’s chest, she reached down into her pocket and pulled out a second thermos. “Here, get some of this down you.”

She tossed it in a slow, underhanded lob, but Tony couldn’t seem to get his arms to move away from his body. An inch from impact, Henry bent and scooped it from the air.

“You’d make a hell of a shortstop.”

Henry grinned as he placed the thermos in Tony’s hands. “Only for night games.”

“Well, yeah.” As long as they could play the denial game, they were maintaining a version of same old/same old. Same old/same old was doable. He looked dubiously at the thermos. “Is this . . . ?”

Arra snorted. “Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“Drink some anyway.”

“But I was only a minion for like a really short time and . . .” A sudden memory of being trapped and helpless, of being used. He came back to himself as Henry wrapped his fingers securely around slick curves of orange plastic. He didn’t think he reacted, but Henry backed away.

Giving him space. And a thermos top filled with magic potion. It smelled exactly like he remembered.

It tasted pretty much like it smelled, like a cocktail for alcoholic cats. He’d had worse but not recently and he was out of practice.