“We can keep the dangerous ones out,” he said firmly, but not unkindly. “Do you need a rifle while your …” he waved vaguely out at Menachem’s crutches, “while you heal? I have one at home I could lend you.”

These were soon to be his people too, after all, how ever different they may be. He would be damned if he did not do his best to protect them. He shrugged and took a smaller sip, letting it roll over his tongue and relishing in the burn down.

“The past is in the past,” he shrugged.

He believed it, too.

“Now I have a beautiful fiance, and twins on the way. Twins!” he grinned. “Can you believe it?”

Zechariah automatically nodded and took another appreciative sip. Swallowed, swished the liquid in the glass and watched its ripples--

Wait. He knew his favorite drink. Zechariah looked him up and down.

Stared.

“Tony!” he laughed, uncomfortably. “Shit, when did you get such good memory? You could hardly remember which bed was whose in school!”

Or at least that was the excuse he gave for getting piss drunk and then making that literal on any bed but his own.