"Maybe a little," Luke admits with a smile. "But only because I do enjoy hearing all the things you know." And that one was rather simple, he thinks, the sort of thing many people know, but he doesn't imagine all that many of them would have said something and it isn't that he thinks Reid is predictable, but that he very much likes the way he responds to things. It shows a level of inquisitiveness not many people possess, and a willingness to be himself when Luke imagines others may have asked him to stop or at least go a little easy. He'd been that way when he was younger, he and Hodge together, the two of them always better with history and demons and languages than with their weapons. They had been the two students to most often correct the others in class, the ones more likely to tell Valentine when he had identified a demon wrong or suggest to Robert that maybe the dates he was recalling weren't quite right.
They hadn't exactly been well-loved because of it. Luke remembers well enough how often Robert had rolled his eyes at the two of them and they had only ever escaped without a physical altercation because they were both under Valentine's protection. He loved them in his way and so others were forced to love them, too. It's not the sort of love Luke thinks anyone should have to bear and he tries not to let the memories of that time creep in. Not tonight, not when it's his birthday and the decision to join Valentine and the Circle is officially two decades in the past. Not when he's here with a friend, someone who cares enough to have brought him a cake and a present, someone whose company he enjoys.
Someone who inspires the sort of feelings in him he'd long thought were over. Valentine has no place here. He has no place in Luke's life whatsoever and day by day he thinks he's taking the right steps toward forever undoing any hold his former best friend may still have on him. A parabatai is not a bond so easily undone. There are Shadowhunters who die of despair when their parabatai falls in battle and Luke felt the severing of that bond more keenly than he'd felt anything before, but it's been a long time now. The wound has healed, even if the scar is jagged and uneven.
"An explosion or my singing..." Luke shakes his head as he retrieves the utensils from the drawer and sets them out on the counter alongside the plates. "I'm actually not sure which would be preferable. With all the strange and crazy things that have happened in my life, I have to admit that explosions have never been all that common. I suppose demons have no use for dynamite." It's a joke, even if it's a bit of a silly one, but now that he's thought about it, it's always been interesting that the types of altercations Shadowhunters endure are fairly limited. Within the boundaries of Idris, magic prevents gunpowder from igniting, so it makes sense they're not used there, but he knows out in the world things are different. It does make him wonder why rouge Downworlders or even the angry Fair Folk don't use guns.
When Reid sets the cake down on the counter, his grin grows wider and then he laughs, shaking his head. "It's much better than a clown," he agrees, leaning closer to get a better look at the wolf done in icing. He wonders what the cake maker thought of it, if maybe they didn't think of it at all. It can't be the most unusual design they've ever had requested.
It makes him laugh, though, to see a little icing wolf on his birthday cake. More than that, it makes him feel good. Accepted. Reid isn't trying to ignore what he is or pretend it doesn't exist. He's acknowledging that the wolf is a part of Luke, a part of his friend, and there's no undoing it.
no subject
They hadn't exactly been well-loved because of it. Luke remembers well enough how often Robert had rolled his eyes at the two of them and they had only ever escaped without a physical altercation because they were both under Valentine's protection. He loved them in his way and so others were forced to love them, too. It's not the sort of love Luke thinks anyone should have to bear and he tries not to let the memories of that time creep in. Not tonight, not when it's his birthday and the decision to join Valentine and the Circle is officially two decades in the past. Not when he's here with a friend, someone who cares enough to have brought him a cake and a present, someone whose company he enjoys.
Someone who inspires the sort of feelings in him he'd long thought were over. Valentine has no place here. He has no place in Luke's life whatsoever and day by day he thinks he's taking the right steps toward forever undoing any hold his former best friend may still have on him. A parabatai is not a bond so easily undone. There are Shadowhunters who die of despair when their parabatai falls in battle and Luke felt the severing of that bond more keenly than he'd felt anything before, but it's been a long time now. The wound has healed, even if the scar is jagged and uneven.
"An explosion or my singing..." Luke shakes his head as he retrieves the utensils from the drawer and sets them out on the counter alongside the plates. "I'm actually not sure which would be preferable. With all the strange and crazy things that have happened in my life, I have to admit that explosions have never been all that common. I suppose demons have no use for dynamite." It's a joke, even if it's a bit of a silly one, but now that he's thought about it, it's always been interesting that the types of altercations Shadowhunters endure are fairly limited. Within the boundaries of Idris, magic prevents gunpowder from igniting, so it makes sense they're not used there, but he knows out in the world things are different. It does make him wonder why rouge Downworlders or even the angry Fair Folk don't use guns.
When Reid sets the cake down on the counter, his grin grows wider and then he laughs, shaking his head. "It's much better than a clown," he agrees, leaning closer to get a better look at the wolf done in icing. He wonders what the cake maker thought of it, if maybe they didn't think of it at all. It can't be the most unusual design they've ever had requested.
It makes him laugh, though, to see a little icing wolf on his birthday cake. More than that, it makes him feel good. Accepted. Reid isn't trying to ignore what he is or pretend it doesn't exist. He's acknowledging that the wolf is a part of Luke, a part of his friend, and there's no undoing it.