( Objectively, distantly, he knows he has no right to feel proud of her. She's not really his little sister, they don't really have that dynamic — no matter how much those blurry impressions linger, no matter how much some weird, animal part of his hind-brain is half-convinced she is.
They're strangers. He's not entitled to feel anything in particular.
But he does, and he can't quite bite back the wide, approving smile that blooms over his features. )
( He raises his glass in a toast, and does exactly that - knocking back the contents, and then putting away the glass. One and done, and the right thing to spend it on, he thinks.
Choosing to be a shield instead of a blade is always, always the right call. )
no subject
They're strangers. He's not entitled to feel anything in particular.
But he does, and he can't quite bite back the wide, approving smile that blooms over his features. )
Good. That's- that's good. That's great, actually. I'll drink to that.
( He raises his glass in a toast, and does exactly that - knocking back the contents, and then putting away the glass. One and done, and the right thing to spend it on, he thinks.
Choosing to be a shield instead of a blade is always, always the right call. )