Neal loves him for the way he adapts without a blink. Peter takes Norton’s hand and shakes it slowly, still looking between Neal and Norton.
“Friend of yours, Neal?” Peter sounds wary, but not outright accusing, which is nice.
Seeing him, Neal remembers their last conversation. The tension, the rage. He looks at Norton instead of Peter, giving him silent permission to answer the question however he feels comfortable.
“Yes. But I don’t like to speak for my friends when I don’t have to.”
Mozzie beelines for Neal and throws himself into a hug, which Neal accepts, slightly startled. “Mozzie, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to convince these fascists that you didn’t run!”
“Cool it with the hyperbole,” Neal says, glancing at Norton again when Mozzie says fascists. He smiles to soften the reprimand. “But thanks.”
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“Friend of yours, Neal?” Peter sounds wary, but not outright accusing, which is nice.
Seeing him, Neal remembers their last conversation. The tension, the rage. He looks at Norton instead of Peter, giving him silent permission to answer the question however he feels comfortable.
“Yes. But I don’t like to speak for my friends when I don’t have to.”
Mozzie beelines for Neal and throws himself into a hug, which Neal accepts, slightly startled. “Mozzie, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Trying to convince these fascists that you didn’t run!”
“Cool it with the hyperbole,” Neal says, glancing at Norton again when Mozzie says fascists. He smiles to soften the reprimand. “But thanks.”