Ben moved his left hand to his lap as Art took his first drink. His left arm wasn't really back to its full strength yet, and while it looked fine most of the time it was sometimes noticeable in the way his fingers didn't quite move as quickly as they should, or when he tried to close his fist forgetting that they wouldn't be able to manage it. He didn't really want Art to notice, though, because in another situation Art might be inclined to worry about it, and there wasn't enough room at the table for both of them to be worried. Ben's worry about Art was already taking up all of the air between them; it was so thick it was difficult to say anything at all, because in order to do so they had to push through this haze to make space for the words.

"I'm glad you came out tonight," Ben said. It was a genuine statement, but also a bit of a calculated one. He wanted to telegraph to Art that this wasn't a dangerous situation; they could talk about it or not talk about it and either way, Ben was going to be here.