Life was hard when you were lonely and heartbroken. But time moved things along. His shingles were still starkly black but his clothing were once more vibrant. He went out with his friends, he worked on his inventions, he scammed muggle ghost hunters, he had even flirted heavily with a man at the last 'art' party he had gone to and had even come close to kissing him. However, the last point had left him feeling guilty and feeling the need to numb his feelings about it.

He also missed having regular sex. He felt guilty about that too. He had not been touched in months, not since the last time Ford had been successfully tempted back into his bed. Which had been a while ago considering they were doing their best to not contact one another. Or at least Ford was not reaching out as far as Ty was aware.

Tycho was still unsure if the whole literal stroll through memory lane had been real and not some fever dream. As his intoxication deepened, his hold on his inhibitions lessened. And so, at about four in the morning a drunken raven flew out of Tychos window and landed on Fords windowsill. Or at least tried as he initially thudded against the window. He was irrationally offended that it was closed. Never mind that this was a logical choice to make in December weather.

He noisily knocked on the window with his beak, a little wobbly even in bird form.