Gilbert loved cars. He loved fast cars. He loved cars whose roofs slid down and the wind could rip through his hair and he could scream and it would be lost in the roar on the engine. He had liked fast horses, too.

Arthur did not love fast cars. Arthur enjoyed practical cars, cars like Ford Focuses.

Gilbert sucked gloomily on his milkshake, looking out the window at the rainy weather. They had driven for two hours, passing through various villages and towns. Wherever they were going, Arthur's mood seemed to be improving.

"You know, I think we might have actually gotten away with that," Arthur said for the fourth time, grinning over at Gilbert. "Get your feet off the dash."

"Where are we going, anyways?" Gilbert asked, unrolling the window and tossing the plastic cup out.

Arthur's face fell briefly into a frown, but it soon smoothed out. "To ask some help from friends. The Council will be in a panic for a few weeks, trying to account for damages and keep the news from spreading. That dragon was the best idea we've had yet."

A new town soon appeared out of the green hills. Gilbert could see the sheen of a shield, and he grimaced when he felt his powers being suppressed. This was a hardcore shield, something to prevent any and all innate magic at all.

Arthur glanced over and frowned. Gilbert looked at his reflection in the side mirror and laughed at the dirty-blond hair that greeted him. He loved when it turned blond.

The town was painfully average, too far away from any mineshafts or the ocean to have any natural magic. The people who walked the streets hardly gave them a look, and Gilbert wondered if it was a practiced indifference or if they were just mortals.

Arthur parked and led the way through the streets, nodding at whoever he recognized.

"Why is it," Gilbert said, speeding up to keep up with Arthur's quick pace, "that you seem to know a lot more things than I do?"

"That's because you're too busy eating, playing games, or working out," Arthur muttered, staring down a man walking towards them until he stepped out of their way. "I've been researching. You've been napping."

"No, don't get grumpy at me because you've been busy!" Gilbert wanted to laugh, but he kept a dismayed face on. Something delicious wafted down the street, and Gilbert was suddenly starving. "Aw, man, can we get some food?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking smug.

"Oh, no."

They walked into the restaurant. The whole place must have been enchanted. Smells were created through the carvings in the wood, and the abstract paintings generated a feeling of nostalgia and hunger. Arthur could have done better, but it was pretty nice.

Lovino looked up; the happy look for customers was gone so fast, Gilbert wasn't sure it had been there in the first place.

"Out," Lovino said, voice already heated like his cheeks. "Both of you, out!"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and nudged Arthur with his elbow. "We get told that a lot, you and me."

Lovino stepped out from behind the counter, and the paintings on the walls began to change colors. Arthur waved his hand and the paintings vibrated for a moment before settling back into their original ink. Lovino scowled, but on him, it was something vehement and ugly.

Arthur and Lovino glared at one another, but Gilbert was bored.

"Is Antonio here?"

Lovino's head snapped toward him so fast, Gilbert was worried it was going to fly off. "You aren't allowed to speak here. You're lucky Feliciano isn't here, or he would be—"

There was a bang from upstairs, then the sound of heavy footsteps. Someone fell down the stairs, and Antonio emerged from the kitchen. He stood in the doorway for a moment, eyes on Gilbert, then launched himself at the familiar.

Gilbert was so used to having to punch people that he was far too stiff when Antonio wrapped his arms around him. Gilbert coughed, patting Antonio awkwardly on the back.

"Gilbert!" Antonio exclaimed, like he was explaining to Gilbert who he was.

And Gilbert broke. He hugged Antonio back, laughing like a wild man. Good God, it had been forever. Random memories flashed through his head—the stakeouts, the scuffles, the same battle and seeing Antonio fall into a pile of bodies he had slaughtered.

But Antonio just smelled like warm bread and clean sheets.

Antonio pulled back, holding Gilbert at arm's length. He looked over his shoulder and chattered something in rapid Spanish to Lovino, whose frown only grew. Then, Antonio returned his attention to Gilbert.

"Thank you." Antonio grinned so wide, it looked like his face was going to split. "And I saw the dragon! A dragon—I thought they were all dead!"

Gilbert scratched the back of his head. "Me too. Arthur found one."

Antonio's smile became more forced, but he nodded to Arthur anyways. "I cannot thank you enough! Those little bottles are terrible. Lovino," Antonio chattered something in Spanish or Italian or a mix of the two, but Lovino had enough.

"Antonio, they have to leave."

Antonio released Gilbert and turned. "Ah, what?"

Lovino looked away. "They have to leave."

Antonio stood a little straighter. "Don't be rude."

"They're the ones who got you locked in the bottle in the first place!" Lovino hissed, leaning forward but not coming any closer. "And why do you think they let you back out?"

Gilbert was happy he didn't have to see the emotions flashing across Antonio's face; Lovino's reactions were enough.

"Because Gilbert's my friend."

Lovino's eyes were fixed on the ground at Antonio's feet. "No, it's because we owe them now. The Council is going to come down on them like a hammer! And…" Lovino dragged his eyes up. "They'd come down on us too, Antonio."

"Lovino—"

And for a moment, Gilbert thought Lovino would order Antonio away, order him to the bedroom and chase he and Arthur out with a broom. Had Lovino even missed Antonio?

Lovino looked away and swore underneath his breath.

"What do you need us to do?"