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The news media could stuff it. Jeremiah was having nothing to do with them and he had, in his opinion, sufficiently scared them off of messing with Zac. Himself?

Not so much. Still he had perfected his hard stare, the one where people slowly just backed away, and it worked in most cases. It was only the truly persistent - the truly stupid - that kept at it.

It was a couple days after being found - more like returned - that the detective had managed to find his way to Aleksy's flower shop. He, in all honesty, felt like he owed the young man. In part because of all the questioning by the police that he had gone through via his disappearance.

Years of grumping at each other, snarking, and hard stares had formed something of a camaraderie between the two of them. One he found he did enjoy (never tell anyone).

With two boxes under his arm, bundle up a bit warmer than perhaps the weather dictated (more layers than he usually preferred), Jeremiah was opening up the door to the flower shop and heading inside.

Jeremiah's took a breath, ignoring the jab at not-husband. Aleksy had been worried, he could tell that much and he was on his list of people to apologize to. Except that one had to always apologize to Aleksy in a very particular way.

"I'm here because I brought you something to perhaps make up for all the utter bullshit you've had to deal with lately." The boxes under his arm were shuffled, blue-green eyes glancing down to them. "Since, you know, I'm an a*****e and all." What the ********, Jeremiah was agreeing? The world was possibly ending.

When he looked he caught sight of the flinching, watched as Aleksy cringed, and that uncomfortable feeling settled again in his stomach. Jeremiah remembered, suddenly, that Aleksy could see the influence of other ashdown on people. His free hand was smoothed across his face. "I can only guess because of the ******** deer thing." The persistent chill had not gone, nor had the burns healed entirely yet and there seemed to be little to be done for it but adapt.

Jeremiah paid no attention to the bruises, even if they were noted. He frowned a bit when Aleksy mentioned the deer, what it looked like, and part of him was half-tempted to ask. The other part of him was still not exactly happy with the perpetual chill and burns on his back.

"Wait," he said, taking a step forward. If you knew the other man long enough, you knew where he kept his vodka. The detective came forward, the two boxes - obviously bottle sized - were set down on the counter. Within one was a bottle of Tovaritch! and within the other was a bottle of English vodka Adnams Longshore Vodka. The latter only purchased because, much like Tovaritch! it had gotten a gold rating at some festival or the other. He wasn't that much of a snob when it came to alcohol (actually he totally could be but that was beside the point, America was pretty s**t when it came to alcohol).

"For all the bullshit." He wanted to smirk but he didn't, instead just tilting his head a little in sympathy.

Jeremiah's lips twitched, mostly because he was glad that the vodka was the thing to go for as an apology. (Wasn't always the best at them, this one.) With a nod of his head he went and fetched the other bar stool, letting out a hiss of breath as he bent somewhat to pick it up. Bringing it over was easy, sitting down even better.

Seated, the detective's shoulders sagged briefly as he took another breath. Then he straightened up and let out a chuckle. "The only way I get anything good is to import it or talk to Borr. He keeps a real beer on tap for Algie and myself." NOT HIS HUSBAND, ALEKSY. The shot glass was picked up and he downed it without hesitation (mostly because he had not yet tried alcohol as a way fight the chill).

"Not that long after I first came over," the shot glass rolled in his hand, sliding between his palms, before it was set back down on the counter, "I got into a fight over beer here." Here as in America, not in Ashdown. "Someone didn't like that I thought all their beers were shite."

Not necessarily true now but who wanted to hunt down microbreweries only for them to stop carrying something you had come to like.

Never a man to question the past, especially years twelve through twenty-three for himself. "It is good," he replied, "I don't drink vodka that often." Just not his spirit of choice. Brandy or whiskey was his.

Sometimes in a guinness.

Jeremiah snorted at the mention of Borr. "I think you are not alone in that one." Not that that was not a healthy reminder that he really, really needed to hold back on his over protective urges. He smirked at being denied more shots. "It really wouldn't be fair to drink up all of your gift with you."

There was that eye-twitch at the mention of his booted vehicle. "They did." A car was far too pivotal to his job to not have and it was one of the first things he got done once he was 'back'.

He had a habit of not being able to idly sit and not fiddle with a shot glass. It was back to being rolled between his hands. The detective actually able to pull off a few tricks with it as it was rolled. Those stopped at the mention of Sunny. It was an uncomfortable topic.

Mostly because, when it had come down to it, she had helped him. Even if he was in deep, even if she was still threatening. "Honestly? More concerned that everything over there has unlimited power and the mentality of a teenager." Except for Heliodora, that he could tell. The vodka didn't really help, the chill of his back still there. Could always drink more later.

"Well ... the vodka is more than apology." Jeremiah figured that Aleksy would probably need it after everything that he had seen. The description, the words, the pop! motion - it all just reinforced that not everything was as it seemed.

What was the true reality? Worse the effect it clearly had on Aleksy because he remembered the other over there, Finn at his side, shaking and pale.

"While some part of me wants to ask you what she looks like," she was obvious, because he meant Sunny, "I'll pass. Maybe later, when it's not too fresh." Jeremiah raked a hand through his hair, still trying to adjust to the way things pulled and ached with his injuries. Aleksy did not like to see Sunny, avoided her. Probably for a good reason. "You said I am on fire?

"... that ..." Jeremiah took the calender in hand, looking over the diagram. There was never not some part of it that was connecting, moving to another, and the eyes ... "So what you're telling me is that she's a glorified headache for you? More so than others."

He set the calendar down the counter. This time it was him pouring Aleksy a shot, his own empty glass set down and left alone. Honestly it sounded like that old phrase -

"'If you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.'" A hand rubbed the side of his neck. Stop thinking about protecting others, Jeremiah. Aleksy clearly could handle it somewhat. "Sounds appropriate," he snorted. "Though I think I can at least explain my back looking as it does to you. It was a surprise bonus gift from The Peaceful One." Goddamn annoying not-bambi slendeer. "The fire they surrounded me with, it scorched up my back. Beside the obvious burn injuries - cold burns - it's chilled. All the time."

Which was why Jeremiah looked dressed overly warm. He could not shake the chill. That was on top of the pain of the injury.