[And there went his drink, a red solo cup flying through the air to splash all over the ground and maybe the shoes of anyone who happened to be nearby. Kavinsky didn't care about anyone who was caught in the line of fire.]

Take it easy, man. He's in good hands.

[Kavinsky's, to be precise. Speaking of hands, he held his up, open and empty, maybe as some sort of peace offering. Okay. He could do this. He could have a conversation without antagonizing Ronan, even if that was the easier route here.

He nodded in agreement that Ronan had treated him like shit and lied to him. He almost felt bad for not hanging out with the other dreamer after the shit had hit the fan, but also could he really be blamed? He didn't handle rejection well. But this- Ronan was apologizing and saying he missed him and Kavinsky's stomach clenched. He missed Ronan too, he missed everything they'd had and could have had but-]

I dunno about losing to you in races anymore, but- I've missed your stupid face. And your stupid attitude.

[He took a breath, reached out, and clapped Ronan on the shoulder. Friendly. Like they were friends. Maybe they could be.]

You'd never what? I didn't think you were proposing to me or anything, man. We can be friends. Just talk to me.