“Kitty!” Zechariah half laughed, half coughed. “You look-…”

Hm. Bad subject.

“It is-… to, uh, see you, it has been a while!”

He was trying.

Before Zechariah could dig himself deeper into a hole, a boy (man? something in between) popped in to help.

“I … brought wine,” he said, pressing the already soaked handkerchief against Uriel’s bleeding hand.