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No, Celadonite sounded too much like -- salad? The lizard, maybe. Waru had a jacket somewhere, which could've been equated to 'jeans' as there was certainly a tailor on the team somewhere. Regardless Sy' took note of the names, the associations, tried to pair them with the faces he knew from the few missions they'd been grouped up together on yet.

His eyes widening as Matt explained Sylvite, leaving him to inhale a bit to quickly on his next sip, and cough on the bright taste of dry red and it's alcoholic burn. Sylvite had purified?! Purified and survived. For all that Matt didn't sound like he was grieving the loss of a dead friend, but only missing someone who was now gone...

Pieces clicked, the mechanics of what made the foundation of such a large team function whirring to visible life-- Jada collected those with intelligence, Faustite collected Loyal, Lofty, and Boy (or boy adjacent as it seemed), and Albite?

Oh, Waru...

He didn't choose to collect anyone at all. No, he bemoaned leadership, shirked responsibility. Aimed to place all his subordinates above him quickly as was humanly possible--- or encouraged them to do so simply by *being* himself at them hard enough that they managed it for the sake of survival. It was part of why Syrus didn't mind being under him so much now, not only because he had the edge of being a friend, but because he knew he'd be over him in a short time.

"Honestly? I can't tell if you're more upset that he missed scalping her discarded team as a whole, or that he didn't," a raised eyebrow, and he wasn't going to press on what could've been a sore spot, a crack in the pretty porcelain that made up Fulgurites outer visage. Not when they were relaxing, not when they could be having more fun still. "and I'd put good money on the idea that he's being extra cautious only because he loved her. It's why he doesn't hound you for anything more, you're not *his* to be reckless with. It's a wonder he hasn't chewed the higher up's heels till they hand you wings---Actually? I'd be surprised if he weren't actively working on it as we speak. He likes the look of power on people."

The statement could've been discarded as speculation, with how Syrus shrugged it along and chased it with a eye-rolling groan -- the database -- the idea of Albite putting anything at all on his own in the database.

"Matt, darling? You're hilarious, truly, you should consider being a comedian during your next incarnation because I'm sitting here *trying* to imagine Waru summarizing anything, anything at all. The very idea of it is migraine inducing as it is laughable. I think I'll save myself the pain and find someone else's entries to read..."

It was easy enough to mirror Matt, that relaxation, moreso in his own space then anywhere else. Not feeling nearly as out of control as he often did outside his home, drowned in the chaos and bustle of the world.

"Speaking of things I want....you are spending the night, yes? Certainly you can't teleport home drunk? Not that I'd know personally, but I've heard rumors it's ill advised..." and yes, cabs existed, ubers, lyfts, but he would've rather whiled away the rest of the night speaking with the man comfortably. Minus constraints of timetables, and people becoming pumpkins as soon as midnight blights struck.

The pinched look that graced his features, a clear line of consternation in the middle of his forehead., Oh, someday he would have lines on his face specifically from thinking of Waru -- because what the ******** did any of that even mean!? A page of of a book? A clerk? Swan L---

Oh, Waru, that absolute b*****d. He took him to an opera the one damn time, and of course the only thing Waru'd likely taken from it was 'pretty girls in tutu's' -- so very similar to senshi, most likely. That and the barest sense of a feeling. Syrus highly doubted he'd learned the plot, but at least the name had stuck.

Gold stars all around....

Unless he was being literal? He could be being literal, knowing Waruhiu, and there were stranger things in DC than dancing swans...and when Syrus looked up from the too empty dregs of his cup, long enough to pour himself more, Matt was texting someone. His father? It was sweet, interesting, not enough so that he'd tug that thread right now. It'd be rude to admit he'd thought the man a loner -- rather than someone who lived with a possibly aging parent. ********, he didn't even know how old Matt was, did he? Syrus hadn't thought to ask...

Now that he had though? He certainly would. Playfully instead of directly, because going the direct route was no fun.

So he nodded because he didn't mind in the slightest, simply found himself a way to lounge and consider how they'd split up the sleeping arrangements tonight -- the bed, preferably, facing death a time or two, facing it slimed and on his knees? That warranted some bed sharing, left no space for squickiness or shame considering all the other acts they'd been dragged through: like demonic voids and an impromptu wedding ceremony.

"Excellent, and yes, yes I do. Two truths and a Lie. I'm stealing from our illustrious fire-burning General's wealth of ideas. It's a good drinking game," certainly he'd enjoyed it enough at their last gathering, a shame Fulgurite'd been absent for the discussion on cats and thumbs, "you don't even have to divulge two truths. Though it goes along better if you do--and after that? Depending on how much of this bottle - ah - the next bottle we get through? We'll see where it goes. I simply do not intend to sleep alone tonight, even if all we do is sleep."

Matt's glass was looking decidedly empty. Syrus wasn't going to point out the fact that he was going to get to enjoy the sleepover Waru should've given him, to steal that first of a win. He was going to keep that covetous little bit of warmth to himself, and not question in the slightest what drove him to act like so much like a child tonight. The wine was easy enough to blame for it all. His limbs were warm for it, everything was comfortably fuzzy around the edges. They were two people having a good time while discussing nothing business-like or stressful at all.

"Now, who's going to start?"

It was a good starter game, surely it was better than the one Waru had taught him, better than any of the ones that man had taught him, honestly. Syrus sucked the buzz off his teeth, pressed a slim, slice of agreeing glance and twitch of a knowing smile Matts direction. A nod to how on the nose right he was, because who wanted to lie for everything? Well -- maybe him, sometimes, if only to test the guessers ability to sniff out a baseline of honestly before giving up the goat.

Not tonight though. Tonight he was going to play by the rules he'd established, at least until he felt like changing them up all over again for his own enjoyment.

"Ooh, alright, letmesee---" the guess clucked softly under tongue, and Syrus moved as he spoke, "You don't look like you cook," he did garden though, that was known, but Syrus wouldn't ascribe too many talents to Matt's shoulders just yet. "I'd place money on your athleticism. I've seen you fight after all..." and he was up, would swear elegance even if everything was tinged with tilt and he had to be a little more careful than usual not to catch the corner of a counter while he tottered off to pull something else from the fridge; chilled, bubbling, the color of poinsettias and aroma of spring cran-cherry-pom. Fruitier than even he considered himself to be. "I'll place your recruitment date as the lie..not that some of these people don't seem extraordinarily young, but?"

What true use was there in recruiting a teen? No, it was a question unworthy an ask, because Syrus wasn't so nascently, naïve that he didn't know. Strong bodies, malleable minds, the whole spiel. Hell, he might've been interested himself if he'd known back then that such opportunities existed. What seemed right for some simply did not for others, and so there was a sourness at the back of his palette for the thought.

Something more wine would wash clean! He was generous with his pour as he returned, careful to set the bottle down before he curled into the couch, knees drawn, nails dancing along brim and stem of glass.

"Now! I have three younger sisters," an absolute lie, he was 'technically' an only child. Insofar as he knew. Did his only-child status show? In the ways he shared openly, only the things that didn't matter to him at all. If he ascribed a clingy meaning to all of his belongings then he'd never have a day of dry eyes for when he inevitably lost them to the invisible hands of fate that only knew how to take and take and take...

"My favorite wine is a dry red -- not from a box --" honest as the day was long, "annnddd...ah...I've never said 'I love you', tooo..Well, to anyone I've slept with actually?" True. Scaldingly so. Syrus wondered sometimes if fell into a realm of 'demi', where he could only hold honest affections for the people he got to truly know, for a very small, rare group of close enough he would die for while the rest sat out along the billowing cold edges of his purview.

Except he liked attention, sometimes, even when he thought it of an ingenuine variety. Anything he could work into future branches of possibilities for himself. He still preened and blushed at receiving compliments, maybe he just didn't have the right words?

Eyes a margin wider as he stained his tongue a more vibrant shade with delicate swallows of fermented red. Surprise for his own inaccuracies, but if it begged a better story out of Matt? He hardly had such of one himself, his recruitment was half the thought of his dearest, densest friend seeking him a shady, but not nearly so shady as to be vile, job offer. A step stool over the wall of a line of work he already felt he was pursuing. He found he liked being told he was wrong just as much as he liked being told anything of substance, no matter how first page of a dating profile soft it all was. Learning the new, getting a taste of a person beyond the face-sheet, there would always be some undefinable latent excitement for that.

"That's very young, I'm glad Waru waited until I was -- nineteen? Twenty? I'll turn twenty-two this year, so--" a shrug to wave it off as he blamed the alcohol for fuzzing the numbers and fudging his perception of 'when' just a bit. He'd gotten home to two men in his kitchen, Waru looking like the cat that'd stolen all the cream. A living, breathing, housefire with the hottest hands he'd ever felt-- Syrus shook the entire thought off. The way his face had burned after, how proud Albite had been to made an achievement. Faustites gentle teasing that had been welcomed even with all the snark behind it.

Fifteen seemed a lot of life to give though. He wondered what had made Matt join up so young? Meant his experience was -- long -- and he had to do a bit of a double take for that because suddenly all the others, in spite of their ages, they seemed so young. At least when it came to having actual experience.

"If I'm off about the cooking though? That means you'll have to prove it to me now. Not that I believe you'd perpetuate a lie, but I do like proof with my pudding Matt," clucked his tongue softly, thought about what he would've liked Matt to cook. Something he enjoyed, probably. Syrus had been looking to be more venturous in his eating endeavors. He was waif, and wane, and it'd never bothered him, for all that he liked healthy things -- to eat light and be light -- he enjoyed his vegetables, his lean meats. The occasional desert was a snice as a cup of carrot and ginger soup. But only when that dessert was like flan -- or the tiny boston fruit cakes they now did without the frosting.

"Full points for being right about me though, on all counts. I'm not even sure if I could pretend to have ever had siblings, being the most only of children I could possibly have been my entire life," full points for the rest too, his love had a price; required a deeper cut and far more knowing on his own terms. Sex was far simpler, really. Simpler than the words, for how he knew there were people he loved, even if they weren't also people he'd ever say 'I love you' too. As if those three little spats of letters strung together were some impossible to sign contract. He knew their value, their importance, so he didn't hand them or his heart out lightly.

“Waru is the most special of cases -- like my preference in red wines. Now lets seee---I’m a Pisces,” a simple enough lie that he would have an unhurried, pressure-less answer for. Giving away something as easy to ask about as birthday details wasn't too much. "I wear colored contacts," a soft smile for that, a tilt as he slid out more honest offers while on the side pondering Matt's own tales, "I've only let the one person do my hair over the last three years." There, done, and more of the wine disappeared with less hesitancy, than before, got played with in its glass while he picked out truths -- squinted at the lie he thought had to be a lie -- raised his eyebrows for how hard it was to actually pick them apart.

On that he would also blame the wine. He could blame the wine for everything.

"You're getting better at this -- those are hard to pick apart -- because I cannot imagine you enjoying any sort of nickname, or bribery, or -- No, I could see you in a club, believe it or not. You are on the most massive of teams after all, multiple teams at one point, right? Sooo..." lilting as he settled back, tilted his head into a pillow. "Ace is the lie -- I don't believe it was a 'fight club', but? I'm going to bet you were in a 'club' of sorts. I bet you've been bribed given our line of work -- though for what is the real curiosity."