"You know," he says, "I've been thinking."
"Good one."
"No, I'm serious," and of course he says it in that strange way of his. "Hear me out."
With a sigh, you pause the game, tossing the controller down on the couch. You lift your bottle, shake it a bit, find it empty. You stand and wander into the kitchen.
Kurt stretches out on the newly-vacant couch. Well, he'll keep it warm for you.
"I've been thinking," Damien continues, pointing at you with his glass, "that maybe... maybe you're not the only one."
"Only what? Person who can put up with you?"
His eyes glint. "You know what I mean."
You open the refrigerator, begin rearranging bottles. "You want anything, Kurt?"
"'Nother cider would be swell."
"Done."
"Man, you even listening?" Damien says, exasperated. He puts down his phone. He's watching the stocks, again.
You shut the refrigerator door, ciders in hand, and look at him levelly. "I am," you say. "I am, and I have thought about it. And you know what I think?"
You let the words hang between you. Just long enough.
"I think, 'who cares?' So what if there are other timebreakers out there, Damien? If someone out there is rewinding time—well, how does that affect me? Affect us?" You shrug. "I don't know. I can't know."
And it's kept you up at night.
You clap a hand on Damien's shoulder, give him an affectionate squeeze. "So I say, we drink for today. Before some asshole on the other side of the planet rewinds it."
"Cheers to that," Kurt says, raising his cider.
Even Damien, solemn Damien, can't help but smirk a bit at that. "Here's to you," he says, raising his glass.