You did enough. Reassurances from Kieran were always odd things to parse. He’d known him long enough to half-expect argument at every turn, or at least a hefty dose of pessimism. And then occasionally there would be this, this strange turn to gentleness. (What had happened to him tonight, to make him so devout?) He’d called Jude deranged at the start. He’d loathed every minute of it.

But he had voted for him, nonetheless – well, that was something, Jude thought, with a spark of affection in his chest. “Then at least I’ve achieved something,” he said lightly, with a brief, teasing smile as if that were already a better result than he’d been expecting. It was, really. His friends were good to him, he knew that well enough – but it had never been a given. Especially not from him.

Jude studied Kieran’s face, cast half in shadow, and tried to drink it all in, just in case. He breathed out, still wondering about him and why he stayed. He hadn’t wanted to be anywhere near the campaign, and yet – hadn’t he always been there? Not just for the posters, or the paper; Kieran had been there day to day, faithfully, no matter what. He’d cared more than he needed to – and Jude didn’t know how to thank him for it.

“You’ve done more for me,” he said, serious, “than I could ever have asked of you.”

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