He didn’t know what the trigger was, was the thing; Cash was sort of morbid nearly always, but that didn’t kick him into this vaguely drifting state every time. He was trying to think of a quick and easy way to ground himself when Greengrass asked you alright? and Cash’s eyes flicked upwards at him, too startled by the question to deny it right away like he ought to.

He wanted to say: Yeah, of course, or I’m not crazy or don’t worry about it. He swallowed. He wanted a cigarette but did not know how to articulate this. One of Greengrass’ curls was sticking out at the wrong angle and he wanted to reach up and adjust it, but that was too intimate, and he had left his hands out a little from his side, like he was a bird considering the merits of flying away.

A beat or two passed before Cash’s brain finally caught up and he answered. ”Yeah,” he said, ”Yeah, I will be, can you just -“ he wanted to ask Greengrass to grab his shoulders, a sort of forced grounding exercise that he would have asked Angie for if he’d drifted into her apartment, but they didn’t know each other like that, and he desperately did not want to seem crazier than he was sure he did right now ”- can you talk to me about something? Anything.”

Maybe not anything, actually. ”What you think the muggles will do tonight, maybe.”

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