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"A lot of people lost memories after that. Not on purpose, I don't think.." He liked to believe not. Gale had forgotten Eva. He'd hate to think Gale would have done such a thing on purpose. He remembered how upset it had made her to find out.
It was the same night Clerise had died.

Otto followed along, pulling his sleeves over his hands as the nippy night air froze his digits. "Pub huh..." He'd never drank at a bar before. He'd always been too young.

But in Canada, he was of age, right?

If Roland planned to bad mouth Nevada through the whole trip, Otto planned to punch him square in the nose. A threat he often defaulted to with great success. The teen glared at the back of Ro's head for a while, following him through the cold streets of Toronto looking for some bar.

"Is it supposed to be amazing or somethin'?" He grumbled at the other man. "Or you just got a thing for pubs?" Why had he gotten dragged out again?

"My apartment had booze.." He muttered bitterly, lamenting having to be near people. Crowds. Anything. How dare the world keep spinning while half his soul was gone forever.

Otto took a seat, not bothering to remove his jacket yet until he warmed up. Or perhaps it was a way of him not committing to sticking around. "After a mission, I think." He replied uncertainly. That day had been fuzzy, but he remembered her pretty face greeting him to help. When, how long ago or what situations he'd been faced with at the time were blurry. Nevada just seemed to be in his life one day, and nothing was out of the ordinary about it.

"I don't.. really remember.."

Good. At least Ro was paying. Otto still sat there with his coat on, arms crossed and face looking like he'd been sucking lemons.

Ro began to talk about the good old times. Otto glared at a spot on the table. He didn't want to share. He didn't want to hear this man talk about Nevada. He hated this. He felt trapped as if being confined and forced to swallow the pills of Roland's words.

Was he to sit here and cater to his feelings because he'd been close to Nevada? Like some kind of unwritten obligation?

"Yunno," Otto started, his voice bitter, "Just cause you were friends with her don't mean I gotta be all friendly like with you." His icy blue eyes lifted to meet Ro's. "She liked a lot of ******** people, but that's who she was. I like very few people, cause I'm ********' picky. I ain't gunna sit here and be buddy buddy with you and chat about our feelings, ya get me?"

"Just cause we knew the same girl, don't mean we suddenly got somethin' in common."

He was still talking.

Otto seemed to sink in his seat, grabbing a bottle of southern comfort and pouring a shot. He'd employ the middle man (shot glass) only because he was in public for now. He silently glared at Roland, and let him talk. Maybe he just needed a body to talk at.

Otto held his shot in one hand, and his phone in his lap. He'd be a wall.