Tommy sits at a picnic table by himself. The picnic tables around him are swarmed with people: bustling families, lifelong friends, new and old lovers. Their voices merge together to create a cacophony of sound. It grates on Tommy's ears, but it also makes him feel significantly less alone. He eats the plate of cheesy fries he ordered from one of the food trucks stationed at the edge of the picnic tables. Tommy chews on one thoughtfully as he watches the workers rush around the interior of their metal offices. He idly wonders if he would prefer working in a food truck. He thinks he could make it work, and he knows that it wouldn't be a boring job. It might sometimes be a disgusting one, but Tommy's had to clean his fair share of unsavory stains out of clothing before.

Tommy shakes his head, looking down at the chipped wood. Even if he could get a job at a food truck, he likes making clothing too much. His recent falling out with Nymph has dampened his enjoyment, but there is still work to be done regardless of how his clientele used to be. He likes working for Madeleine. He likes listening to the radio. He even tolerates his coworkers. He has a nice place to stay. Tommy doesn't want his life to change when his current station is far from unbearable.

"Tommy! I had a feeling it was you! Your hoodie is pretty signature," A voice calls out. Tommy looks up from the basket he was eating fries out of. Wilbur is standing in front of him with his own box with the logo of a food truck on it. Tommy was hoping Wilbur would walk away, but the brunette slid onto the bench right beside Tommy. The blonde scoots over to put some distance between them. Wilbur takes this as a sign that Tommy is making space for him.

"Hey, Wilbur," Tommy murmurs distractedly, purposefully avoiding eye contact. He hasn't thought about Wilbur recently, though the feeling of a life debt has not dissipated in his chest. It grows stronger now that Wilbur is right beside him. Tommy has the urge to throw himself in front of a speeding bullet for Wilbur, and Tommy thinks that is highly unfair. This island is literally going to be the death of him. The debt system is wack. Someone with a lot more time than Tommy but just as much intelligence as him should start looking into how to dismantle the entire system. Or, at least, find a way to exempt Tommy.

"Where's Natalie?" Wilbur asks. Not even a few days ago, Tommy and Nymph- who went by the alias 'Natalie'- came out to get lunch together. Wilbur joined their little get together. As far as Tommy could tell, they all had fun together. They talked about interesting topics. There were times when Tommy made them laugh with his silly antics. There were even times when Wilbur and Nymph would make Tommy howl so loudly he was flushed with both amusement and embarrassment.

Now, he just flinches away from Wilbur's friendly stare. His fingers smush the fry currently in his hold. Tommy scowls at the disgusting mush now in his palm. He uses a napkin to wipe his hand as he mutters to Wilbur. "We went our separate ways."

"That doesn't sound good," Wilbur empathetically states, clearly noticing Tommy's aggressive reactions to the mention of Natalie's name. To Wilbur, Tommy and Natalie were old friends who recently reunited. Part of their story was that they had a falling out in their past. Tommy laughed bitterly for a while after he realized this was the falling out part of their backstory. He doubts they will recover their friendship (and it really wasn't a friendship) in a few years.

"It's none of your damn concern," Tommy snaps, glaring at Wilbur. He learned a long time ago that friendship was for idiots and naive suckers. Tommy knew this, and yet he decided to indulge a vigilante and the man Tommy owes a life debt to. He would have had better luck randomly befriending a drug addict in a back alley, but Tommy has never made the right decisions. In fact, ever since he met the bloody Phantasm in that alleyway, Tommy has been making all the wrong ones.

"I think it is my concern. I mean, we're friends. Friends have to look out for one another, don't you think?" Wilbur tells Tommy, bumping their shoulders together as he opens the box with his food. Steam rises up from the chicken tenders and fries. Wilbur moves aside the fork/spoon/napkin packaging unit to get to his food.

"We aren't friends," Tommy bites, trying to move away from Wilbur yet again. He gets to the end of the bench. Wilbur doesn't slide closer, but he doesn't seem uncomfortable with Tommy's motions. Tommy levels Wilbur with the heaviest stare he can muster. Wilbur is completely unfazed. It is starting to make Tommy even angrier.

"What else can we be?" Wilbur asks him with a faint smile pulling at his lips. His eyes are sparkling with amusement as he meets Tommy's eyes unflinchingly. Tommy even scowls at him, but Wilbur is unperturbed. "I saved your life. This is the second time we're eating together. Of course, we're friends."

Tommy has never had a real friend before, so he doesn't entirely know the etiquette around it. He does know that everything Wilbur listed doesn't make a friendship. It makes a pair acquaintances where one member has a strong sense of justice. Under pressure, such friendships will inevitably break, and Tommy refuses to be cut by the broken shards. To change the subject, Tommy focuses on the first bullet point. "Speaking of that damned life debt, what the fuck do you want?"

Wilbur's eyebrows scrunch together. He starts picking apart a chicken tender as a frown spreads across his face. He looks up at the sky as if to think about something really hard. Tommy gives him a minute, deciding that such a question does deserve a lot of forethought. When Wilbur swallows a torn piece of his chicken, he glances over at Tommy with an apologetic half-smile. "I don't want anything. Anyone would save a life if they could."

"What drugs are you on?" Tommy asks with a surprised laugh bursting from his lips. Tommy and Wilbur live on Quesadilla Island. This place is known for violence, bloodshed, and selfishness. The number one rule of the island is that everyone looks out for themselves. If it had been anyone else in that store, they would have run the moment the gun went off. They would have left Tommy to die to save their own skin.

"You're right. I guess not just anyone would," Wilbur sullenly agrees with pained eyes. Tommy remembers part of the conversation Wilbur and Nymph had. They were talking about the state of the island. They were agreeing that it was horrible- that something needed to be done about it. Nymph turned to vigilante, and now she was resorting to villainy. Tommy wonders what Wilbur is doing to bring about positive change. "Regardless, I really don't know what to ask of you. Anything I think of doesn't come close to weighing the same as a life debt."

"My life isn't worth much, so pick whatever the hell you want," Tommy laughs under his breath. Another rule of the island is that other people's lives aren't worth anything unless they can do something important for you. It goes hand-in-hand with the golden rule.

Wilbur frowns. His brown eyes flash with sadness. It makes Tommy feel bad. He wants to retract his statement. When he realizes he feels this way, he scowls.

Wilbur shakes his head. He reaches a hand out. Before Tommy can flinch away, Wilbur's fingers are across Tommy's jawline. He lifts Tommy's face to make them meet eyes. Tommy holds his breath, waiting for a threat or even a slap. He doesn't get either. He only gets to see Wilbur's soft expression. "Your life is worth far more than you think it is."

Tommy blatantly laughs in Wilbur's face. He shakes his head to free himself from Wilbur's touch. Wilbur brings his hand back to his chest without needing further prompting. His soft expression does not dissipate- the warm eyes, the simple smile, the all-encompassing wholesome quality of his facial features. It makes Tommy sick, but it also stops his urge to argue with Wilbur over how valuable his life is. Tommy stops laughing. He immediately says, "Just think of something soon, bitch. I don't like owing other people."

"I can agree with that sentiment. I don't like owing people, either. But I also like being completely fair in my dealings. The debt system hanging over our heads can only be appeased that way, after all. I need to figure out what would be worth your life," Wilbur explains. He sets his chin down in the center of his palm. He stares at Tommy unabashedly. His eyes roam across Tommy's face as the blonde tries finishing his fries. It unsettles Tommy, but he doesn't do anything since he assumes this will help Wilbur figure out what to ask for.

Wilbur snaps his fingers as soon as he comes to a conclusion. He lifts off his chin. He shifts his body, putting his knee on the bench between him and Tommy. He leans forward with a brilliant smile stretching across his face. "Since I saved your life, I should get your time, no? We should hang out more often!"

"You shouldn't waste your debt like that," Tommy deadpans. A life debt is very valuable. Wilbur could get whatever he wanted out of Tommy. He could get money, or maybe free clothing for the rest of his life. Tommy wasn't even above making Wilbur a personalized wardrobe. Wilbur chose none of those, even though Tommy was certain Wilbur knew of Tommy's occupation. Maybe he didn't know Tommy's talent? Tommy should change that. Everyone should know that he is the best tailor in Madeleine's shop.

"You wouldn't spend time with me unless I used a favor," Wilbur reminds Tommy, lifting an eyebrow as if to ask if Tommy actually would. Tommy chuckles, answering the question without having to say a word. Wilbur smiles knowingly, but his eyes grow wistful as he starts talking. "Friendship is very important, especially for people with small support circles."

"Oi, fuck off. I don't have a small support circle. I'll have you know that I have many women after me," Tommy glares at Wilbur, not in the mood for another speech about his social behavior. Madeleine told him about the same thing when she asked where 'Natalie' had gone the other day.

"I don't buy it. You admitted earlier that you had a falling out with Natalie which means you have one less friend than you did previously," Wilbur explains. He gestures to Tommy's empty basket that once held fries. "All you seem to do is eat lackluster food and work at a tailor shop."

"Hey, you have no right to disrespect this food. It is super fucking good. And the tailor shop, too. I'll tell Madeleine what you said, and she'll beat your ass," Tommy grumbles, pointing a judgemental finger at his companion.

"You didn't defend your social status," Wilbur points out, raising a questioning eyebrow. Tommy turns away from Wilbur. He can continue to joke about his large harem of girlfriends and wives, but at the end of the day, Tommy really doesn't have any friends. He learned his lesson about them. Even if he didn't know how troublesome trying to have a friend is, the other tailors think Tommy is weird and Madeleine is his boss. Nymph is gone. Tommy shouldn't get involved with Phantasm or Shadow Girl. Salamander isn't even an option. Tommy is, for all intents and purposes, all alone.

Alone except for Wilbur. Tommy levels a stare at Wilbur. "I don't understand why you care."

Wilbur looks taken aback. He leans away from Tommy with a contemplative emotion swirling in his eyes. He speaks softly, shrugging his shoulders without looking at Tommy. "I don't know, either. You're fun to be around. You're definitely an interesting character. Maybe you remind me of myself."

Tommy visibly gags at the thought of being anything like Wilbur. The brunette's eyes widen as he notices the way Tommy reacted. "Hey! You would be lucky to grow up to become anything like me."

"I would literally rather die than be like your balding ass," Tommy explains, but there's a quirk in his lips that makes it look like he's enjoying himself when he's obviously not.

"I am not balding!" Wilbur exclaims, reaching a hand up to touch his hair to make sure all of it is there.

"You're going to be bald if you touch your hair with your greasy hands," Tommy says, gesturing toward Wilbur's hand and the basket with his remaining fries.

"That is not how that works."

"I don't know... I can see some hairs coming out right now," Tommy tells Wilbur sympathetically. Wilbur immediately shoves Tommy. The blonde laughs in surprise. He reaches over to push Wilbur as payback. The two of them start a shoving match, their laughter joining in the buzzing atmosphere of the eating area near the food trucks.

Tommy is about to shove Wilbur right off the bench when his communicator starts making annoying noises. Tommy darts away from the picnic table, avoiding Wilbur's retaliatory shove. Tommy turns the alarm off. Tommy throws his empty basket in a trash can. He doesn't even look at Wilbur as he starts walking away. As he is about to step into the street, he hears Wilbur yell out. "Don't forget about us hanging out again soon!"

Tommy flips Wilbur off. As he hears the brunette's laughter, Tommy smiles to himself.