Tommy fiddles with the bandages around his palms. He has even more bandages all across his body, each one carefully placed over an area that got injured during his escapade to save Shadow Girl. None of his wounds hurt all that much right now, but the texture of the bandages is unpleasant against his skin. He wants to rip all of the bandages off, infections be damned, but Phantasm is the one that bandaged him up. Tommy assumes he did, anyway. By the time Tommy woke up, he was alone on the second floor of the tailor shop covered in bandages. He thought he was going to have to repay Phantasm for bringing him back home and wasting bandages on him, but he doesn't feel the weight of a debt in his stomach. The closest he can get is the strenuous connection he has with Shadow Girl right now.

"Stop doing that," Wilbur reprimands Tommy softly. Wilbur reaches out to pull Tommy's hands away from each other. Tommy scoffs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. They are, unfortunately, not connected, so Tommy is unable to continue with his unhealthy habit. Wilbur sighs, looking back in front of him to make sure he doesn't crash into any of the other pedestrians walking in the opposite direction as them.

"It's fine, Wilbitch. I don't feel any pain," Tommy tries to convince Wilbur. The man raises an eyebrow at Tommy. The blonde huffs, looking away from that disbelieving stare. While Tommy is lying, he doesn't feel so much pain that he can't do anything. He doesn't even think the bandages are necessary. At least, the ones around his hands aren't necessary. His knees are going to take some time to heal. On the bright side, his shoulders are only bruised. They don't have a scar on them.

"I'll have to replan our entire hang-out session this coming week. I mean, we can't do anything that will upset your hands... or any other injuries you won't tell me about," Wilbur explains, rubbing his chin between his fingers. Tommy hasn't told Wilbur about any problems that aren't able to be seen with his clothes on. Tommy tells himself it's because it isn't Wilbur's business, but he honestly doesn't want Wilbur to worry. That would make Tommy feel bad, and Tommy is firmly in the camp of saving himself from the most amount of emotional harm, even if that causes him to suffer physically.

Plus, Tommy really doesn't want Wilbur to know about his relationship with the villains Phantasm, Shadow Girl, and even Nemesis. Wilbur has nothing to do with the world of super-powered individuals. Tommy's powers are enough leverage to keep him safe. Wilbur doesn't have anything. He's a regular person, and Tommy knows that the first people to die in the age-old conflict between heroes and villains are the regular people. Civilian casualty rates are high on the island, and Tommy is going to do whatever it takes to keep Wilbur out of harm's way.

"We could go read books," Wilbur offers, snapping his fingers like he's had a wonderful idea.

Tommy levels with an unimpressed and frankly disgusted stare. "I fucking hate reading."

"Oh, I hate it, too. I much prefer writing," Wilbur laughs. Tommy's shoulders untense at the melodic sound. The laughter is proof that Wilbur is having fun and is comfortable around Tommy. The blonde doesn't know why those are his concerns, but he will take relief wherever he can get it. "My brother is the one that inherited all the love for reading. He is also pretty good at writing poetry, which I think is frankly unfair. If only I could have half of his talent for remembering eloquent words."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Tommy murmurs. He closes his mouth the minute his sentence is out. To his own ears, he sounds defensive. Tommy feels a flush of embarrassment rise across his cheeks. There are a lot of things that Wilbur hasn't told Tommy, and it's only fair. Tommy doesn't need to know everything about Wilbur. There are a lot of things Tommy hasn't told Wilbur. Plus, their friendship is entirely built on repaying the debt of Wilbur saving Tommy's life.

"I have a whole family unit: a mother, a father, a brother, even an uncle, though no aunt," Wilbur answers. There is a smile on his face and a bright light in his eyes. He doesn't look or sound like he heard the note of defensiveness in Tommy's voice.

Tommy is grateful for Wilbur's obliviousness because he immediately feels jealousy coil in his stomach. It isn't fair to Wilbur, of course, but Tommy can't help it. Tommy's entire childhood was spent in and out of different foster homes, getting to know the cruel side of every individual's heart and watching them treat other kids with the kindness he wanted. The last time he wished for a real family was when he was a child. He thought for sure that part of him had disappeared underneath the waters of the tub and in the darkness of the closet, but it ripples across his soul now. Tommy guesses he'll never really be able to get rid of that childish part of him that wants a family that he can smile about the way Wilbur smiles about his family.

"I promise to introduce you to them soon. You could come to a family dinner! My family wouldn't mind. I'm sure they're eager to meet you," Wilbur promises, a softness in his eyes that makes Tommy think Wilbur understands where Tommy's jealousy is coming from. Tommy wants to vomit. He really doesn't deserve Wilbur's kindness.

"And ruin it? No, thank you," Tommy shudders at the thought.

Wilbur shakes his head firmly. "You wouldn't ruin anything. It could be really fun."

"I don't know," Tommy murmurs. He has never been great at family dinners. They have always felt more like interrogations to him or horror games where one wrong move could lead to his demise. Tommy wouldn't know what to say or do. He would feel bad about eating someone else's food without bringing anything himself, but Tommy not only can't cook but he doesn't have anywhere to cook. He could bring a gift of some sort, but what was appropriate at a family dinner? Disregarding what he could bring, Tommy would have to talk to people. Tommy's life isn't nearly eventful enough to carry a conversation. He doesn't think anyone would care about his radio stations or his escapades with Wilbur that they probably already know about from the brunette himself. Tommy just knows he would make the entire situation awkward, if not worse.

"Hey, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do," Wilbur promises, bumping his shoulder with Tommy to draw his attention away from his spiraling thoughts. Tommy's eyes widen at Wilbur's promise. It feels oddly familiar to him, but Tommy has come to realize just how odd Wilbur is. His kindness is entirely unfounded, but he continues to give it freely. He indulges Tommy despite the blonde being unable to offer anything in return. In fact, he's actively putting Wilbur in danger right now. Tommy should stop being so selfish.

"You should tell me about your family just so I know what I'm getting into," Tommy selfishly asks, bumping Wilbur's shoulder back.

Wilbur's face lights up with a smile. He reaches out, hooking his elbow with Tommy's to pull him close. Wilbur's eyes are bright as he explains, "I mentioned my brother earlier. He's actually my twin, but you wouldn't get that from looking at us. He has pink hair, and I have brown hair. His eyes are a little more red than mine. He's also way buffer. He did sports when we were younger. By sports, I mean mixed martial arts. He's done karate, fencing... other stuff. He's a history nerd. He loves the classics, particularly mythology.

"Then, there's my dad. He used to be an aviator, but now he does construction stuff. He's a pretty chill person. He makes the absolute worst jokes. I don't understand why everyone says I get my sense of humor from him. I very clearly don't. What I actually inherit from my father is my sense of adventure. My dad loves nothing more than to go on little quests or hunts. On his own terms, of course. He hated it when I would hide his stuff under the guise of making an adventure for him.

"My mom is a lovely woman. She's the one I actually get my sense of humor from, though she laughs at Dad's jokes, so... the jury is still out on that one. I also inherited my love for music from her. She plays the viola and the guitar. The former is a far more classical instrument than I would ever play, but she's the one that taught me how to play the guitar. She works at a morgue. I'm pretty sure she's a zombie, but she won't admit it.

"Last and definitely least is my uncle. He's a wackjob... I'm only half-kidding. He loves pulling pranks, especially on my dad, his brother. He's pretty short, but he always pretends like he doesn't understand what you're saying when you tell him that. He has a bug collection, hence most of his pranks. I don't actually know what his job is. He probably doesn't have one. He doesn't technically free-load, but I've never been to his house. My brother thinks he's homeless. Dad said that wasn't nice to say, but he didn't deny it, so... My uncle is probably homeless.

"Anyway, that's everyone in my family!" Wilbur concludes.

"You forgot me, Wil. I'm your little brother," Tommy jokes, only feeling embarrassment after the words are already hanging between them. Even as the heat crawls up Tommy's neck, he refuses to look away from Wilbur.

"Stop, or I'll cry," Wilbur threatens, turning to meet Tommy's eyes. The words alone would make Tommy flinch, but they way they're said and the look in Wilbur's eyes makes Tommy feel infinitely better about his joke. It makes him feel good enough that he starts laughing, looking away from Wilbur when his eyes close from the pressure. As Tommy's laughter subsides, he hears Wilbur's laughter alongside his own quietly pittering out. Tommy is extremely grateful Wilbur thought the joke was funny. Tommy would never hang out with Wilbur again if he embarrassed himself here.

"Ah, here we are," Wilbur states. Tommy looks up to find the building Wilbur is looking at. It's made from light wood. The triangular roof is made from darker wood and gray stone bricks. There is a chimney outputting smoke and vines growing along the side of the building. Despite the homely appearance, there are people crowding the entranceway, situated in lines. There is electronic music flooding from the windows and open doors. A man in a uniform stands at the doorway, only allowing a certain amount of people from the line in at a time.

Since they're elbows are still locked together, Tommy doesn't get a moment to hesitate as Wilbur steps up directly to the bouncer. Tommy raises his hands to speak, but Wilbur gives the bouncer a rather sinister grin. Tommy's lips part with surprise, turning to look at Wilbur with a keener eye. His attention darts when he notices the bouncer moving. He lifts up the red velvet rope keeping back the rest of the crowd. Wilbur pulls Tommy into the bar, glancing over his shoulder to give the bouncer a proper smile- one Tommy is familiar with.

"What the fuck was that?" Tommy asks, unsure where to place his attention. It slides away from both the bouncer and Wilbur to look inside the bar. There is an area in the back where people are dancing. There are tables all along the edges where people are hanging out with their companions or cradling glasses on their lonesome. The music is thundering. The warm gold lights are dim. Tommy can feel dozens of heartbeats across his fingers, prompting him to push away his powers.

"I'm acquainted with the owners..." Wilbur answers, trailing off. He cranes his neck to look around, his eyes more purposeful than Tommy's cursory stare around the room. Wilbur shifts them both when his eyes narrow. Tommy turns his attention immediately to find the people Wilbur is looking for.

In a dark corner of the room, three people sit around a table. A woman with brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and a black leather jacket around her shoulders is sitting with her back to the wall. She holds a brownish orange glass bottle in her hand, holding the neck of the bottle near her lips. Her purple eyes stare down tiredly at her two companions. The one on the left is a man with light brown hair face-down against the wooden table. A pair of glasses are sat directly in front of him, and his fingers curl around a glass of foaming beer. The person on the right is a man with black hair and eyes, leaning against the back of his chair and halfway from falling out of it. His glass has been left empty on the table. As Tommy gets closer, he thinks the two men are crying. The one on the left is definitely sobbing. The woman is talking to them both, trying her best to get them to stop acting like babies in public.

Wilbur releases his hold on Tommy to get close to the table before Tommy gets there. Wilbur's eyes are narrow and his voice is barely a hiss. "What have I walked into?"

The woman gives Wilbur a rough smile. She points at the two men with the neck of her bottle. She shakes her head. "Charlie and Quacktiy have had a long day."

Wilbur sighs. He takes a half-step to the side. He lifts his foot back, kicking the one Tommy assumes is Quackity based on the woman's gesturing in the shin. Quackity flinches, eyes flying open. He looks around, his unsteady gaze finally landing on Wilbur's shoulder. Quackity is flushed with both alcohol and anger as he points a finger to Wilbur's chest. Wilbur grabs his wrist, pulling his hand away. Quackity pouts, tugging weakly at his wrist. Wilbur rolls his eyes. He uses his other hand to grab Quackity's chin, squeezing tight enough that Quackity has fish lips. Wilbur directs Quackity's attention to Tommy. "You two need to get happy. We have an important guest today."

"Is this business-related?" Charlie asks, his voice muffled by the wooden table. He turns, keeping his cheek against the table. His eyes are unfocused as he looks around. Tommy doesn't know what he's searching for.

"No, it isn't," Wilbur exclaims, something panicked in his eyes as he turns to Charlie. The man in question nods, scraping his skin against the wooden table. Charlie winces. Wilbur sighs again, taking a step behind Tommy. He nudges the blonde forward, putting one hand underneath Tommy's chin as if presenting him. "This is Tommy."

"Hello! I'm Jaiden. This is Charlie, and that is Quackity. It's great to meet you," The woman states, standing up on the bars of her stool to lift up higher than the table. She lifts a hand out across the table, nearly bumping her head against the hanging light fixture. Tommy rushes forward to shake her hand at the awkward angle. She flops back down into her chair while taking her hand out of Tommy's grip.

"So... are you all friends?" Tommy asks, glancing from Wilbur to the other members of the table.

They all answer at the same time. Wilbur says, "Yes."

Jaiden hums, "We try."

Quackity laughs, "I don't like any of you."

Charlie whimpers, "I don't know who anyone is."

Everyone takes a moment of silence after speaking at the same time. Wilbur looks agitated, and Tommy is quite frankly surprised he's never seen Wilbur truly upset before. Tommy thinks he likes knowing all the sides of Wilbur. Jaiden laughs awkwardly, waving her hand. "Don't mind what Quackity and Charlie say while they're drunk. I told them not to drink so much."

"I got sad," Charlie explains, pushing off the table. He is upright, but his head wobbles around like he really is a baby learning how to sit up. Charlie's eyes widen, and his lips part. Tommy looks around for a trash can or at least some sort of pot in case the beer decides it doesn't like Charlie's stomach.

"I never get sad," Quackity says. His argument is brought into question by the tear tracks on his face. It is made invalid by the tears that are still hanging on his eyelashes.

"This is a failure," Wilbur bemoans, lowering his forehead into his awaiting palm. He seems genuinely distraught.

"It isn't," Tommy swears, a laugh hanging onto the back of his words. "I like getting to know your friends, even if they are drunk."

"Yay!" Charlie cheers, throwing his hands up in the air like he's favorite team just scored a point. This motion causes Charlie to topple. He falls against Tommy, his head landing against Tommy's shoulder. Charlie mumbles a few more phrases, but he doesn't make any efforts to pick himself back up. Tommy pats the top of his head, not entirely sure if he should be comforting Charlie or not.

"Why couldn't you have been sober for this?" Jaiden whispers to herself, reaching over to grab Charlie's shoulder. She pulls, and his body topples in the opposite direction. Jaiden stands up as Charlie leans against her. She wraps her arms around Charlie's shoulders, rubbing his upper arm. She gives Tommy an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry about. He's less weird when he isn't nearly a dozen drinks in. I mean, he's still odd, mind you, but less, you know?"

"Come on, Tommy. Let's let Jaiden figure out these drunkards," Wilbur says, pulling at Tommy's jacket sleeve. Tommy follows after Wilbur, looking over his shoulder. Quackity is staring at him with squinting eyes, but Jaiden is completely distracted by Charlie. With those two, Tommy feels like he's watching a mother fretting over her child. Tommy looks away from the group to Wilbur's back. They all had different answers when Tommy asked if they were friends. He wonders what they all actually are.

"You know I'm underage, right?" Tommy asks as Wilbur finds them a space at the bar itself.

"The bar is open to everyone- talking isn't a crime," Wilbur answers, looking around for the bartender. He keeps talking to Tommy even when his eyes are elsewhere. "The drinking law is also flexible, but they have other options if you don't want to drink alcohol."

The bartender comes over to the two of them. It is a man with very tiny prickles of brown hair across his head. His eyes are fiery red at the top, fading into deep blue along the bottom. He is wearing a navy blue button-up, similar to the black one the bouncer is wearing. The bartender is wearing a white apron around his waist, though. There is a name tag attached to his front pocket that reads 'Jack.'

"What can I-" Jack stops when his attention slides away from Wilbur onto Tommy. His smile is a little more forced than it should be, even for a customer service smile. His eyebrow twitches, and his eyes flare with an emotion Tommy doesn't recognize. Jack clears his throat into his fist, turning his attention back to Wilbur. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Wilbur asks for some sort of wine. The bartender nods, mainly keeping his eyes on Wilbur. Occasionally, though, his attention will snap to Tommy. It makes the blonde uneasy. Eventually, Jack turns around to get the wine Wilbur was talking about. Wilbur flashes Tommy a smile in the interim, and Tommy is left in a puzzling situation. Jack comes back, and Wilbur gets his wine. Wilbur heads back to the table, rushing when he sees something. Tommy doesn't see what Wilbur sees, too busy looking over his shoulder. He maintains eye contact with Jack, watching the man's smile fade away. For whatever reason, Jack looks more confused than anything else, and Tommy wonders if he's the weird one.