Pierre was grateful for his friends, even if he didn't always get along with them.
They'd been in close contact for over fifty years now - he couldn't imagine how his counterparts in Anaheim managed.
But all Pierre had to do was look at his friends after they'd had a row and all given each other the cold shoulder. And he realised.
He realised he loved his friends. They were far more than friends. They had a deep and profound love for each other.
They were family.
José, Michael, and Fritz were his family.
And Pierre was just fine with that.
If you'd performed for fifty-one years with the same people without getting into major fights, you'd probably consider yourselves family too!