He's been throwing himself into things to work out his anger. Boxing. Weights. More boxing. Fights at random bars or getting hired out as muscle here and there. The money's better than restaurant work ever had been and while he thought it would help give his anger an outlet, it only makes it worse. Thinking about how little he's needed. What he's lost. What they've lost.

Fire helps and without a grounding presence nearby, Mick allows himself to sink into it more and more. Flicking his lighter to steady his nerves. Watching the flames and getting lost in them.

They don't like Mick using his lighter in the bar so he's absently fiddling with it as he drinks, knuckles bruised from a fight the night before. He glances over as a familiar presence slides in beside him. Mick is not going to think about the relief that washes over him just because Lenny is here too. He's not.

A nod of his head. "Hey."