Brendan had a smartass remark at the ready - didn't he always - but it died on his tongue when Poe hugged him. For a second he tried to keep it together, keep some tough guy veneer going, but he was so tired, and Poe was so soft that it was easier to bury his nose in Poe's hair and rest against him for a moment. He was seventeen; that seemed too old to be this tired of life and have this many people he knew gone forever. After a moment, his arms slipped around Poe's waist in return.

"Manabu would be horrified by us drinking to him," he half-laughed, voice dangerously close to cracking. "He hated that I drank and he'd be hilariously upset if he knew you were enabling it." It should be funny. Under the circumstances, he found himself gripping the fabric of Poe's jacket a little too tightly, as if trying to hold on and avoid reality entirely.