His phone was ringing. Without even glancing at the caller id, Kaladin answered, "Talk."
"Hi to you too, Kal."
"Moash, hey." He sat up, turning down the television. His actions dislodged Syl, who meowed in annoyance. He ignored her. "What's up?"
"Wondering if you wanted to get some drinks with us."
"I—"
"Okay, let me rephrase. You're coming out with us. Be there at eleven to get you."
...ten thirty. Not a lot of time to get ready. Grunting noncommittally, he hung up and stood, heading for the bathroom. Ten minutes to shower, five to dry off, ten more to pick clothes and dress, and he was ready and waiting when the cab pulled up outside.
He pocketed his wallet and phone, and headed out the door, locking it behind him. His phone buzzed as he jogged down the stairs, but he ignored it; it would just be Moash telling him to hurry up.
Teft and Moash greeted him when he pulled the door open. He scoffed, taking his seat. "Yeah, I'm here."
"Good to see you too, Kal. Really. You're always a source of sunshine," Moash muttered, elbowing him.
"You dragged me along."
"Because you haven't come with us in weeks. What have you been up to, anyway?" Teft asked.
"Working."
"You're always working, Kal," Moash countered. "You've been unusually distracted lately."
"I've had a big project. It's taking a lot of my time."
"...your free time, too? I tried calling you all evening. You didn't answer."
Kaladin sighed, turning to stare out the window. "Guy lost his leg. He's going through a lot of therapy. Now, can we change the subject? I get enough of work at work."
"Right right, fine. We're doing fine, by the way. Thanks for asking."
Kaladin scoffed. "No way, Moash. You've barely let me get a word in. You can't pull that card."
Moash chuckled. "Okay, yeah, fine."
"How's school going?"
"...well enough, I guess. I'm so sick of papers."
Kaladin laughed dryly. "Yeah. I don't miss that."
"Neither do I," Teft said.
"It's been like...fifty years since you've written a paper, Teft," Moash countered.
"I still remember it—and I'm not that old."
Kaladin smiled faintly at their exchange. "Okay, so where are we going?"
"Shattered Keg. Rock and Lopin are meeting us there."
"Sounds good."
A few minutes later, they were pulling in. After getting conned into paying the driver, Kaladin followed the other two men inside, greeting their other friends at the table with a wave.
"Gancho!"
"Lopin, Rock," he nodded in greeting to each as he pulled up a chair.
Despite his own reservations about coming, Kaladin found himself enjoy drinks with his friends. They were a motley crew, hailing from all over, and they never failed to make him smile.
Rock and Lopin got into yet another drinking game, and Kaladin found himself watching the one-armed man. Lopin had lived with one limb as long as Kaladin could remember, and it never seemed to hamper him.
He stood, taking his drink with him as he moved to sit beside Lopin. Deftly, he plucked the shot glass out of the man's hand and downed it himself.
"Gancho! If you wanted to—"
"I need to ask you something, Lopin. Need you a little sober."
The man laughed, slamming one palm onto the table. "What is it, eh Gancho? What can The Lopin do for you?"
He hesitated, then nodded to the missing arm. "What was it like?" he asked curiously.
"What's this now, Kal?" Moash asked, slinging an arm over Kaladin's shoulders. "Waaaaay too heavy a topic for party night."
"Lay off, Moash," he muttered, shrugging his friend off.
"Oh, come on. You're like...a physiotherapist, right? Why not just ask your patients?" Moash demanded, not deterred in the slightest.
"This is about a patient," he finally admitted. "He's depressed, but tries his best to hide it. I just...I've read the books and studied all this shit, but there's nothing like a first-hand testimony."
"Hard at first, but nothing The Lopin couldn't overcome. Takes time though, eh Gancho?"
"Anything I can do to help him?"
"Seriously, Kal. Wasn't it you who said you get enough of work at work?" Moash asked.
"Let him be independent. Good for the mind," Lopin said.
"I know that. I just—"
"And his cousins? Family and friends? Do they know, eh?"
...a good point. Adolin did seem stressed out by his living situation. Maybe he should have a chat with the father and brother.
"Right. Thanks, Lopin."
"And his mind? It is very taxing. Be sure he is seeing someone to help. Talking to friends is good, but perhaps you know this. He must speak to someone more removed from the situation."
Kaladin frowned. He thought he understood. "Okay, Lopin. Thanks."
"Great. Now can we get back to drinking?" Moash demanded, slamming a shot glass down in front of Kaladin.
Eyeing his friend, he downed it.
"Better. Who next?"
Rock let out a guttural laugh. "Such weak American stomachs! I will show you how drinking is done by Canadians!"
The banter carried on well into the night. It wasn't until nearly three am that they stumbled into cabs, headed back to their respective residencies. Headed in the same direction, Moash and Kaladin opted to split one.
Cheek pressed against the window, he watched the lights of the city pass by. He wasn't pass-out level drunk, but he was far from sober.
"Glad you came tonight, Kal." Despite pressuring his friends to drink, Moash had had comparatively little compared to Rock and Lopin. "We missed having you with us. Even if all you talk about is work."
"...I like him."
"Like...who?"
"Adolin. He's cute. Kissed me."
Moash looked at him in surprise. "Wait, seriously? And you didn't bring this up until now why? Who is he? Have we met?"
Kaladin shook his head. They were on his street, now.
"Well, dammit, when can we meet him? You guys like...an item now? Shit, Kal..."
"Eventually. Up to him."
"Uh, no way. Not getting out of this that easily. Friday. We're going out Friday and you are bringing mystery boyfriend."
Kaladin grunted. Why not? What could go wrong?
He waved off further goading as they pulled into the parking lot. He moved to get out, but Moash caught his arm. "Text him now."
"It's nearly fo—"
"Do it. He'll see it in the morning."
With a sigh, he pulled out his phone.
Moash says frudY. B their.
"Happy?" he asked, shoving his phone away.
Moash nodded, letting him go. "No backing out!"
Kaladin grunted as he climbed out, clomping up to his apartment for a few hours of drunken sleep.