A/N: Yey Ken/Ky interaction. So important.
Enjoy~
Monday afternoons were always the worst, regardless of how much one loved their job. Never did that seem more true as Kenny sat at his desk, head lazily resting in his palm as he looked over an expense report to approve for Bebe. He really didn't know why she handed them to him, he had no fucking idea how much was supposed to go where. There's a reason he hired someone to do the numbers. He pouted, wishing he could've gotten Kyle into that small office instead, but knew with Bebe already seated when the redhead was desperate for a job, it just wasn't gonna fly.
Still, Kyle could probably decipher all this and make the call himself. Bebe was just too paranoid to make such decisions without approval from her boss. To protect her own ass, no doubt, which Kenny had to respect in some regard. Always best to have a second person to deflect the blame to.
His phone gave two staccato rings and he sighed, grabbing it and slamming it to his ear, "Yeah?"
"Hey, kids wanna know if they can play football," Clyde informed him.
Kenny glanced at his calender, seeing the landscaping company had been to the grounds the Thursday prior and nodding to himself. "Yeah, they should be fine. Tell 'em to be careful, though. Our first aid kits are needin' to be restocked."
"Gotcha," he finished, hanging up his end and Kenny did the same, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"Don't let anyone break something again," he muttered. He couldn't afford to send many more kids through the hospital, not with the numbers looking so damn low. Workman's comp could only get him so far.
He jolted at a quick knock at his door, blinking at it rapidly. "It's open!" he called out.
It pushed ajar and Kyle poked his head through, shooting the blonde a lazy smile. "Hey, Dude."
"Ah, my saving grace," Kenny greeted him, getting to his feet and cracking his neck. He stole a glance at his clock and cocked his head. "Dude, it's only two."
"I'm on my lunch break," he said quietly with a shrug. "So I don't have a lot of time here."
The blonde's face fell in concern, "Dude, you didn't need to skip fucking eating for this... And you don't take a lunch until two? You get to work at like, six," he frowned.
Another shrug, "If I take a break for lunch at all it's a miracle. Now, what's the problem?" he asked.
Kenny sighed, reaching into his fridge and snagging his leftover half-sandwich from his own lunch, walking up and shoving it into his hands. "If you're doin' this, you're gonna eat while you do so," he lectured.
Kyle rolled his eyes, "Ken, I don't need you to feed me. I can run on coffee until like, eight if need-be."
"Eat the damn food," he said through gritted teeth, eyes narrowed in frustration.
The man shied down a bit, taking a small bite of the ham, "Are you appeased now, Master?"
"Not until the whole damn thing is gone," he informed him, whirling him around and leading him out of the room, reaching back to snag his report to take with them.
Kyle sighed, "You seem edgy today."
Kenny looked to see eyes laced with concern scanning his face and shrugged. "Stan called me Saturday-"
"Oh my god," he rolled his eyes with a scoff. "What? He telling you I need a vacation?"
He nodded, "Yeah actually. Told me since I'll see you today I need to try to convince you to take a damn breather." He started leading him down the gym towards Bebe's office and Kyle sighed again.
"Kenny. I'm fine," he insisted. "If I was on vacation, I wouldn't be here to help you with... whatever the hell I'm here for," he waved aimlessly, taking another chomp of his sandwich and trying not to let the pure relief take hold on his face. He was fucking starving, Butters missed him during the food run while he was on a conference call and neglected to get him something. A handful of grapes left from breakfast was not aiding him in the least. "So, what am I here for?" he asked, taking another bite and chewing a little too eagerly.
Ken watched him in concern, "Kyle, are you eating all right?"
"Fuckin' leave my dietary habits alone. I'm here for fuckin' business, Dude," he scoffed.
"Are ya sleepin' okay?" he pressed.
"Kenny, stop-"
"Because I stopped by your place that afternoon," he interjected with a drawl, Kyle pausing and looking at him with confused eyes. "You were passed the fuck out at your desk still in fuckin' work clothes, Dude. That ain't healthy."
His face turned red as they approached Bebe's door, clearing his throat. "Spying on people isn't healthy either," he said primly.
Ken rolled his eyes, "You didn't answer the door so I peeked in the window to make sure you were still alive, so sue me."
"Don't tempt me, I can afford a good lawyer," he muttered, finishing off the sandwich and holding his hands up to show their vacancy. "There. Better?"
He nodded with a small smile, "Much." He knocked on Bebe's door, waiting for her approval before pushing it open.
She looked up and smiled, "Well, well, if it isn't my favorite guy."
Kyle snorted, "I dare you to say that around Token."
She shook her head, shooting him a wink, "Nah. I'm rather fond of my house, thank you."
Kenny ushered Kyle inside, shrugging at Bebe, "I asked him to come in to look at what we found last week."
Bebe sighed with relief. "Thank god. I've been nearly tearing out my hair trying to figure this out." She snagged her folder from the top of her cabinet, waving Kyle over frantically.
He narrowed his eyes, looking at the concern on both their faces and biting his lip, making way over beside her and watching her trying to pull up her monthly reports. "We need to get you a better computer, Bebe," he murmured.
"Token promised to buy me one soon," she smiled. She looked at Kenny and smiled a little wider, "And to give us the money to make sure we stay afloat."
Ken sighed through his nose, shoulders sinking guiltily but a grin falling onto his face. "Bebe, marry the damn guy already."
"When he asks, I will," she chuckled. She reached up and poked Kyle's cheek. "You'll help me budget a wedding, right?"
He laughed softly, "If you can somehow get me the time, sure. Thought I taught you enough about it though," he teased.
Her face fell in the slightest, "Obviously not, because something here isn't looking right." She looked back as her screen loaded up, snagging the physical report and handing it to him. "Look at how much money we've lost in donation drives," she said, voice edging with desperation.
Kyle glanced a bit between the numbers, face falling. "Bebe, can I sit and look?"
She nodded, hopping onto her feet and making way to sit with Kenny on the other side of the desk as Kyle took over. He hummed thoughtfully, snagging Bebe's adding machine and flicking it to life. He looked at her previous work, "You done with this?" he asked. She nodded and he ripped off her ticker tape, clearing her sums and beginning to type in the numbers on her screen, fingers flying faster than Kenny and Bebe could keep up with, his eyes never leaving the monitor and entire body on auto-pilot.
"Geez, I thought you were good with that damn thing," Kenny murmured, elbowing her lightly.
"He gets a little more practice than me, you ass," she scoffed playfully, turning her attention back to the redhead lost in his zone. He double checked the figures, folding in his lips and biting lightly before turning down to the report in his hand, beginning to flood the machine with its numbers. He finished, totals matching each other to the cent and his face fell worriedly.
"What the fuck," he muttered. "This doesn't make sense."
"Right?!" Kenny exclaimed. "So it's not just us?"
Kyle shook his head, grabbing a pencil from Bebe's clutter and silently checking off columns, looking at the screen again and rubbing his temple. "Our company gave you guys twenty more fucking locations. You shouldn't be this low, you should be astronomically higher than you were last year."
They nodded in agreement, "So what happened?" Ken asked softly.
Kyle looked at him, reading the pure desperation in his eyes and gulping. "I don't know," he said softly. "Bebe, do you still have the contracts from our company and the one you worked with before?"
She nodded briskly, hopping to her feet. "Hang on, I got 'em locked up upstairs," she informed him, reaching over and under her desk and snagging the magnetically hidden key. "I'll be right back." She turned on her heel and hurried out the door, the boys watching after her before turning back to each other.
"Kyle... It's weird, right?" Ken asked again.
He nodded solemnly. "Really weird. Everywhere I go where I see your guys' buckets, they're usually pretty full."
"That's what someone else I talked to said," he winced. "Dude... Honestly with these numbers... If Token wasn't offering to help out..." he trailed off, Kyle watching him sympathetically. He'd been there with Kenny throughout the entire process of opening this place. He'd argued with the bank for him, making his business plan and talking Kenny down from visions of grandeur into something realistic. He and Stan had helped him pick paints and the three of them had slathered the walls together, going out for a beer after and toasting Kenny's dream coming true. He knew more than most, this place was Kenny's entire life. The thought of him losing it to something like this, something that his company and specifically his work was involved in... It was almost too much for the overtaxed accountant.
"Ken, I won't let that happen, all right?" he promised, the blonde looking at him with pitiable blue eyes that made his heart wrench. "Look, if money keeps slipping, I have plenty stashed away, I'll help make your payments."
His face fell, "Ky, no. I didn't call you here for that."
"I know," he assured him, knowing well enough that a thought like that would have never crossed Kenny's mind. "But you know what my money's doing right now? Sitting in my account waiting for me to buy groceries and vodka," he rolled his eyes at himself. "Trust me, I have more than enough if you guys need it. Kids need food more than I need Smirnoff, all right?"
Kenny narrowed his eyes in the slightest, noting the drumming of Kyle's fingers silently along one of Bebe's ledgers. "Dude... You okay?"
"Yeah," he blinked. "I mean, upset that you guys are goin' through this but-"
"Not what I meant," he cut him off, watching him in concern. "Dude, you're gonna end up in the hospital."
"Oh, lay off," he rolled his eyes irritably. "You and Stan and Wendy I swear you're worse than my mother."
"Your mom doesn't see you as often as we do," he reminded him sharply. "Kyle, you need a break."
He frowned, "Okay, Kenny. Find me someone who can do my job for a week. Or hell, a day. Find me someone and I'll fucking take a break."
Kenny shifted, clearing his throat. "Bebe?" he winced.
His face dropped flatly. "Look. I love Bebe, but she can not handle this at a corporate level," he gestured to her desk. "I promise, I'm going to Fatass at the end of today to ask if I can get Butters trained so I can take a vacation, all right? But until then, I really don't have an option here."
He sighed, "You really are gonna start going grey."
He rolled his eyes again, "Well, I'm sure Bebe or Wends would dye my hair so I can keep pulling off looking like I'm under forty."
"Bet it don't feel that way," he smirked lightly.
Kyle finally gave a little smile back and shook his head. "I would argue but I really can't. I feel like there's someone constantly sitting behind me with a goddamn knife in my spine."
"You need a better chair," he raised his brow.
Kyle laughed and nodded, "Trust me, I know." They both looked over as Bebe came back into the room with folders clutched in her arms. Kenny shot up, taking them from her and she sighed in relief.
"Sorry, damn file cabinet was jammed again," she rolled her eyes.
"I know that feeling," Kyle mused, grabbing the folders as Kenny set them down, grabbing the top sheets and readjusting his glasses. His eyes scanned over highlighted essentials on the previous company's contract, finger landing and staying on a bright yellow circle around item 5, stating that the center was to pay 20% of their profits to their company as compensation for their efforts.
He hummed, grabbing the all-too-familiar contract that he himself had devised, automatically finding his own terms, narrowing his eyes further. 15%.
"What the fuck," he repeated.
"What?" Kenny blinked.
He tongued over his lips, looking at their worried faces and biting his cheek. "We take less of a percentage than they did."
Bebe raised her brow, "You're upset over that?"
"No," he sighed. "I mean that we took less of your overall profits. Which means-"
"The number should be even higher," Kenny finished, Kyle nodding in agreement.
"God, what happened?" Bebe questioned, looking between the men as they stared at each other in silence.
Kyle sighed, getting to his feet and rubbing his head, making a mental note to stop by the store on the way home and pick up some damn aspirin. "I... I really don't know," he admitted. "Something got fucked up somewhere. If it was only a few hundred dollars difference, I'd tell you guys it's white man's greed or something," he rolled his eyes. "But this... This is just..."
"Suspicious," Kenny finished, Kyle looking at him, slender face going pale at the implications.
"Ken, I handle these accounts," he said in a half-whisper. "I would never-"
He held up his hand to stop him, "Kyle. I know you wouldn't. But something here isn't right, you're saying it yourself," he winced, gesturing to him. "Somehow, somewhere, something just isn't adding up."
Kyle bit his lip, leg bouncing and entire body wanting to tremor with anxiety. This was bad. Something here was just so bad. And he didn't know if he was the cause of it. He paused, his ringtone filling the room and he sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and finding Work glowing across the screen. He groaned, sliding the answer function over and his eyes drooping. "This is Kyle."
"Hey, Kyle," Butters greeted cheerfully. "Eric wants t' know when ya plan on comin' back?"
He frowned, "I told him I'd be out a little longer today and I'd be back in time for the Design presentation."
He cleared his throat nervously, "I-I know ya did. But he says that ya wanted to talk to him 'bout somethin' a-and he's leavin' at four, so ya better hurry."
Kyle narrowed his eyes, "He's missing the fucking presentation?" he hissed. "I have to go but he's going fucking home?!"
Butters fumbled over his words, nerves shot from the pure fury seeping from Kyle's tone. He was never sure how to handle when Kyle finally lost his temper, often just standing in fright while Kyle tore at his hair and pushed him out of his office, slamming his door and cursing up a storm while he ran to hide in his own solitude to escape the hurricane. "Well... well gee, Kyle... I-I guess that ain't too fair, huh?"
Kyle's entire body was shaking, green eyes lost in a murky storm of rage, not quite seeing his audience as Kenny and Bebe watched him with wide eyes. They glanced at each other, Ken jerking his head back towards the door. Bebe cleared her throat softly, silently stepping out of the room and shutting the barrier behind her. Kenny stepped up towards the redhead carefully, knowing from years of experience that coming at him with any amount of speed could easily result in a broken nose. "Ky," he said softly, reaching up and grabbing around his phone as Kyle continued to fume. "Ky, give me the phone," he directed firmly, gently prying off Kyle's fingers from around the device and pulling it to himself. "Butters," he said sternly.
"Well hey, Ken!" he said, fear in his voice gone with the lack of Kyle's directed hatred. "Didn't know he was stoppin' by to see you!"
"Yeah," he muttered. "Butters, Kyle's gonna be a little late getting back. I'm takin' him out for lunch first." Kyle finally snapped himself out of his trance, opening his mouth to argue before Kenny slapped his hand over his lips, glaring staunchly at him.
Butters paused and cleared his throat, "I-I think that'd make Eric mighty sore."
"Put Fatass on," he demanded. Butters let out an audible gulp, the line switching to some Peruvian flute music that made Kenny groan under his breath.
Kyle ripped his hand down, fear prevalent in his eyes. "Ken, don't, he might fucking fire me or something-"
"He's not gonna fire you," he promised. "You know he'd be fucked without you there, and he knows it, too. You're goin' out to lunch with me," he ordered, the redhead sinking miserably at losing precious office time.
"I already had your sandwich," he argued dismally.
Blue eyes bore down on him and he gulped. "You need more and you're gettin' more," he informed him, hearing the line pick up.
"What, Po'Boy?"
"Cartman, Kyle's going to be late coming back. He's on the verge of a fucking panic attack and needs to get out."
"I AM NOT!" Kyle argued, grunting as Kenny shoved him back over the desk and he landed in Bebe's chair, staring at the blonde helplessly.
Cartman paused, "Pft, whatever, that's fine. Hell, he can have the rest of the day off, I don't care. It's his workload that'll pile up."
Kenny blinked, "Wait, seriously?"
He sighed impatiently, "Yes, seriously. Look, ask if he got the reports for today done."
Ken looked at the blank redhead, "He wants to know if you got today's reports done." Kyle nodded slowly and he turned back to the phone, "He says yes."
"Fine, no problem then. I'll send Butters to the damn presentation to take notes. Kahl's been fuckin' driving everyone nuts with his freaking out. Get him to calm the fuck down and he can come in tomorrow morning to talk about whatever the fuck he wants to talk about."
Kenny's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow. Dude, that's... Cartman, that's actually really nice of you."
"Oh please," he said dryly. "I just can't have the guy handling my fucking money having a mental breakdown. Get that stupid Jew some goddamn alcohol and tell him he's not gonna lose his job. He has paid time off for a damn reason, he's fuckin' allowed to use it."
The blonde laughed softly, "I'll let him know. Thanks, Fatass."
"Whatever. Have fun bein' his bitch mom," he finished, hanging up.
Kenny rolled his eyes, bringing the phone down and looking at Kyle's fear-glazed expression, giving him a gentle smile. "Looks like you and me are hanging out the rest of the day."
Kyle blinked, "Uh, what?"
He chuckled, "Your boss wants you to chill out, too. You get the rest of the day off. C'mon, let's go get some grub," he held out his hand over the desk. Kyle looked between the extension and the head attached to it and gulped, taking it and letting him pull him onto his feet. Kenny pushed his arm and led him around the desk, Kyle not quite comprehending just what situation he was in.
"You have work, though," he said blankly.
He rolled his eyes amusedly, "Clyde can handle it." He opened the door, finding Bebe looking at the both of them with worried eyes.
"Kyle, Sweetie, are you all right?" she asked. He nodded softly, face turning hues with embarrassment and Kenny patted his shoulder.
"Tell Clyde he's in charge, I'm takin' the rest of the day off."
Bebe smiled at him warmly, looking at Kyle still flushed and laughing softly. "Good," she nodded approvingly. She moved over slowly towards Kyle, hugging him gently. "You get some rest, okay?" she asked.
He nodded again, "Okay," he whispered.
She squeezed him, shooting Kenny a small wink and heading back into her office, quietly shutting the door behind her. Ken threw his arm around Kyle's shoulders, leading him towards the front doors and out into the sunshine.
"I'm sorry," Kyle muttered.
"For what?" he asked, directing him towards his old pick-up. No way in hell he was letting Kyle drive in this state.
Kyle sighed, crossing his arms and shrugging a bit. "Freaking out. Not exactly professional of me," he muttered.
Ken snorted, opening the passenger door for him. Kyle shot him a small, grateful smile, climbing up into the truck and Ken shut the door after him. He hopped up into the driver's side and looked at his still-blushing face, giving him a smirk. "Dude, you think I mind? Really? When the fuck have we ever been professional around each other?"
He sighed, snapping down his seatbelt and staring at his lap. "I try."
"Kyle, we had a fucking paper football contest when we were drawing up the contract to work together," he reminded him dryly.
The younger pouted, "Well, Butters was taking forever making copies."
He nodded, "True." He started pulling the truck out of the lot, waving to the kids playing on the field as he turned onto the main road, Kyle smiling warmly at the group waving back.
"Man, they love you, Ken."
Kenny snorted lightly, "Well, they love that I feed 'em."
"More than that, Dude," he chuckled, pausing for a bit and his face falling. "Must be nice."
The blonde cocked his brow, "Whaddya mean?"
"I mean... Having people depend on you," he winced, watching from the mirror as the center faded in the distance as they coasted down a hill. "And people... happy to see you."
Kenny frowned a bit, watching Kyle's hands rubbing up and down his arms, posture slackened and eyes defeated. "Your work depends on you, Kyle. And I'm sure they like to see you."
"They like to see me when I'm handing them their paychecks," he muttered. "They all think I'm too young to be where I am in the company and hate me."
He winced, "I doubt they hate you, Kyle. Besides, Cartman's not much older than you and he's the damn owner."
"But he can be social with them," he sighed, leaning his head back exhaustedly.
Kenny shrugged, "Then be social, nothing's stoppin' ya."
"Ha," Kyle huffed sarcastically. "Ken, I barely have time to feed myself, let alone wander around making conversation with people..." He paused, shoulders sinking. "We... When we had our 'beginning of summer' party, I wasn't able to get down there until maybe the last ten minutes I was so swamped. And I was outside the fucking break room and heard them talking about me," he murmured with a sigh.
"What were they sayin'?" he blinked.
He shrugged, sniffling quietly, "They think that I think I'm better than they are. That I don't like 'mingling with the commoners'," he quoted. "I-I just don't have the time to talk to them," he insisted. "And after hearing that... I don't think I want to," he admitted.
Kenny stopped the truck at a light, looking at the redhead slumped into himself looking beyond miserable, heart dropping. "Ky... Maybe you should quit."
He shook his head, "I can't afford to do that. And if I do, then they win," he sighed. "It'd be different if... I don't know... I had something else going on, ya know?"
He cocked his head curiously, "Like what?"
"Let's put it this way: My most exciting nights are when Sam needs a babysitter," he said miserably.
Ken chuckled, "Well, to be fair, she's a great kid. I love watchin' after her snarky little ass," Kyle smiled, nodding in agreement. The blonde turned back to the road, pulling the truck forward into town and sighing through his nose. "You're pretty depressed over this, huh, Ky?"
He cringed a bit, tucking curls behind his ear and sliding his glasses off his face. "I... I don't know. I feel like I'm just watching everyone else going far and wide while I'm drowning in paperwork, ya know? You and Fatass have your own businesses, Stan's a fucking detective with a wife and kid, Bebe and Token are like days away from engagement at this point..." he trailed off and sighed. "Hell, even Butters has a fucking girlfriend. I'm just... really lost right now," he admitted.
Kenny flickered his eyes to him sympathetically, turning the truck to park at Ronnie's Diner, shutting off the ignition and twisting a bit in his seat to look at him. "Well, what do you wanna do to fix it?" he asked softly.
Kyle looked at him and shrugged. "I just need something that isn't purely work, ya know? Stan suggested a fucking cat but I don't have time for that. I don't have time for anything but working through my damn balance sheets."
"Maybe you need to focus on another kind of sheet bein' thrown off balance," he grinned, Kyle raising his brow at him slowly. "Hey, Man, gettin' laid will solve all your problems," he flicked his head lightly.
Kyle snorted, "Yeah. Think I can convince someone to fuck to the rhythm of my fucking adding machine?"
"Not at the rhythm you type with that thing, someone's likely to fly through the fucking wall," he laughed, Kyle joining him. Kenny watched as the despondency began to trickle off his face at last, sighing to himself in relief. He'd watched Kyle struggle like this for years, the situation usually varying but the result the same: A full-scale breakdown that'd he'd 'recover' from in a day and go right back to repressing everything. Stan and he had learned the secret back in high school: To get him to talk it out. Once he started, he rarely stopped until he was finally able to breathe again. But it had to be only one of them, it had to be where no one else could possibly hear them, and it had to be him leading the conversation. Kenny smirked to himself, wondering if Kyle ever figured out that they had him mapped out like they did and just went with it.
Kyle slowly simmered down, leaning his head into his palm and sighing, "I hate to admit it, but you might be fuckin' right."
"First time for everything," Kenny chuckled. "But about what?"
"Maybe I just need to get laid," he shrugged.
"I mean, I was kidding, but how long's it been?" he laughed quietly.
Kyle paused, brows furrowing as he looked down in thought. "Uh..."
Kenny watched him for a moment, "Dude. Seriously?"
"I'm thinking, shut up," he waved him off, grating his lip. His face fell all at once and he groaned. "Oh my god, it's been since I was at the fucking tax firm."
Kenny sputtered with laughter, "Dude!"
"Right?!" Kyle scoffed at himself. "And it was like, a week after I started."
He smirked, "Well hopefully it was at least good."
Kyle shook his head, "No, not really. It was some guy who worked at the damn Harbucks next door. Considering he was surrounded by caffeine all day, he was a lazy fuck," he huffed out a small laugh.
Kenny cackled, elbowing him lightly. "Was he at least hot?"
"Eh," he tilted his hand. "His looks were about as boring as he was. It was one of those 'ok you're hitting on me and I'm game let's do this and never speak again unless you're good' type of deals."
"I'm guessing he didn't get the privilege of your conversation again then?" he teased.
"You kidding? I started going to the other coffee shop three blocks down just so I didn't have to see him again," he laughed. Kenny chortled with him for a few moments, letting themselves bask in the relief of tension flooding out of the truck and seeping down into the pavement below them. Kyle paused, looking at Kenny with a crooked smile, "Thank you."
"For what?" he hitched his brow.
He shrugged, "For letting me rant like a pussy."
Ken rolled his eyes, "You're not a pussy. Ky, you're strugglin', Dude. It happens. You'll find somethin' to keep you preoccupied."
He sighed and nodded softly, "I guess. Though that'll require me having time for something else."
"Make time," he insisted.
"Easier said than done," he smiled sadly.
Kenny shrugged, "We'll find some way. Maybe Butters will get trained and you can take off for awhile. Or even if you don't, maybe you can at least sleep in fucking pajamas instead of this," he wiggled Kyle's tie slightly.
Kyle looked at him curiously, "What do you do to fill time?"
Ken paused, beating down the visions of capes and threats and bashing his fists against people's faces, clearing his throat with a shrug. "Whatever comes along."
The redhead hummed in thought, "Think you can teach me how to do that?"
He winked at him lazily, "I'll do what I can." Kyle smiled warmly at him and they both turned to clamber out of the truck, Kenny smoothly sliding up to Kyle's side and repositioning his arm around his shoulders. They both let out long, contented sighs, letting themselves forget for just a moment the stresses they were both drowning in. For right now, just enjoying some lunch and company in peace was worth all their attention.
A/N: My so gay boys. So so gay. Fuck they'll be the death of me I stg.
Also I love how this was supposed to start 'eh Ky's fine for once' and apparently I'm on auto-pilot with making him suffer somehow. Whoops. Happens.
Thanks for R&Ring!