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Distracted by his bewildering mess of a personal life and his atrocious performance in his classes, Axel hadn't noticed Henrik around the camp.

But he'd heard something. Something disturbing. A whisper, passed between idle instructors standing by the track as he ran laps for the five billionth time.

"...sad...didn't know them well, but they dug my grandmama's grave..."

Grave? Huh? His ears had perked up, but he was out of range, trotting wearily along. Axel picked up the pace, heading back around the track, curious despite himself.

"...lost both parents. Heard it was arson..."

Arson? Trot trot. He was getting a stitch in his side.

"...the Kaspar's've been fine in my classes, but they'd better get over it before they go out in the field."

Kaspars? Axel wheezed around the track again at top speed, hoping for more, but by the time he got back to the spot where the chatty instructors had been, they were gone. He doubled over, panting, hands on his knees. There was no doubt that Henrik had been the subject of the gossip. Axel hadn't heard from his friend in ages. With leave in the morning and no opportunity to track down Henrik, Axel bided his time, fretting.

He'd overslept, set out late, and missed Henrik on the way into town. Fortunately, another trainee also spending the day in town had spotted the big man, and pointed out a shabby little bar not far from where Axel stood. Making his way across the crowded square, Axel reached the bar himself and slipped inside, blinking in the dim light as he searched for Henrik. The big man sat hunched over a beer. He looked quite miserable.

Axel squared his shoulders. It was time. Time for tact. Time for cheering up, time for ... time for something.

He hopped up next to Henrik and smacked the other man on the shoulder. "Henrik! What are you doing here? This place is depressing."

Also the bartender was a seriously un-busty dude with a tattoo of a tiger on his face. It didn't seem like Henrik's usual kind of spot.

Axel, Champion Comforter, was at a loss for words as Henrik sat and kind of flopped over on his shoulder.

He considered his options.

This was a little more difficult than comforting Preacher, but in principle it should be the same, right? Shouting at Henrik to man up was probably the manliest option, but Axel didn't have the heart to shout at a crying person. He decided to pretend Henrik was Preacher, because his comforting methodology had worked pretty well there.

"There, there," Axel said, looping an arm around Henrik's shoulders. This was more challenging than hugging Preacher, because Henrik was about twice as wide, but he managed.

With his other hand, Axel reached around Henrik in a kind of weird embrace, patting his hair like he had with Preacher.

"It'll be okay, man," Axel said, trying to interject some manliness into a conversation that was taking a weird turn all too fast. The bartender was staring at them.

Axel's limited nurturing capabilities were swiftly being overwhelmed as Henrik sobbed and clutched at him. He patted Henrik, making vague shushing noises and feeling panicky. Probably it had been a mistake to pat Henrik's hair in the first place, but it had worked so well on Preacher. Who knew it would turn out so hawkwardly?

The bartender looked very suspicious indeed as he poured another beer and slid it towards Henrik.

"Maybe you gents outta move along," he said, giving Axel the hairiest eyeball Axel had ever seen. "This ain't that kind of bar."

Oh thank goodness. An excuse.

"Let's get out of here, Henrik," Axel said, setting some of his own money on the bar. He slid off his stool, trying to get Henrik to his feet at the same time, resulting in a weird kind of unbalanced two-dude waltz that drew still more suspicious eyes. "We can go somewhere more, uh, fun."

Towards the door they went, his arm still around Henrik to guide the severely drunken man. Mercifully there was no way to hair-pat and walk at the same time, so Axel at least got to ditch the hair-patting method.

"D'you want to look at girls while we talk, or sandwiches?"

It was early evening, the streetlamps already lit. A few people looked over at Henrik and Axel curiously, but without the suspicious cast of the people back in the bar. Axel relaxed. Relaxing caused him to sag under Henrik's weight, and he straightened up in a hurry. He felt bad for Henrik, really, really bad, but he didn't especially want Henrik pawing at him and sobbing into his shirt any more. It was sweet and flattering when Preacher did it, but it was a little bit alarming coming from Henrik.

"He's in Falke with me. Where'd you end up?" Axel said, leading Henrik down the sidewalk. He didn't want Henrik to stumble and fall.

Cake. Cake. Where could they get cake?

"I think there's a dessert shop or something around here somewhere," Axel said. "Uh, do you know the way?" Axel was more of a sandwich guy than a cake guy, but hey. To each his own.

As confusing and distressing as this whole situation was, Axel brightened up a little at the mention of sandwiches. He studied the signs hanging outside the shops they passed intently, keeping a close watch for this fabled land of sweets and sandwiches. While they walked he listened quietly to Henrik, unsure of how best to comfort his friend. Hair patting hadn't worked. Or maybe it had worked too well. Hard to say. That left talking, and Axel was absymal at talking.

Oh! There! That sign up ahead! The board swinging in front of the shop had something on it that looked like a pie. That must be it.

Steering Henrik firmly towards the pie sign, Axel opened his mouth at last. "Alec's a nice guy." Sweet guy was more accurate, but Axel had been huggin' bros enough for one night and he flat out drew the line at calling other dudes sweet. Especially when the sweet dude was his friend. "You should talk to him when we get back. Take your mind off things."

The pie shop was there, in front of them. Some of the wooden display racks by the glass storefront were empty. There were no doughnuts or fresh rolls or long crispy loaves of bread, or the assorted tasty pastries you usually got early in the morning. But there were still pies and cakes and puddings, and while Axel couldn't see any sandwiches a promising savory sort of smell wafted out of the door as another customer left. Axel caught the door and held it open for Henrik.

"I dunno how Preacher is. She's awful sad about one of her friends. Something happened to him." Preacher was friends with Henrik, but Axel's insides felt a little squirmy at the thought of spilling her secrets after she confided in him. "I don't think I've met your brother, by the way. I didn't know you had one!"

Axel sat on his own chair with a resounding creak. The chair's legs were uneven, and it tilted alarmingly to the left. Axel braced himself.

It was a good thing he did, because before he even ordered his food Henrik launched into a painfully long litany of Alec's many virtues. Axel's mouth fell open as he listened in stunned silence. The waitress, still hovering, stared down at Henrik with a dazed expression. Axel was buffeted by a number of different emotions as Henrik's voice droned on. Cringing, red-faced horror at the talk of Alec's soft hair and soft skin. Bewilderment that he hadn't heard anything this scandalous kiss. Sorrow that Henrik had suffered such a terrible loss and that he, Axel, didn't know what to do about it. Also hunger. There was definitely something tasty around that didn't have frosting on it. Axel could smell it.

"I'll have, uh, whatever it is that smells so good," Axel said finally, after Henrik had wound down. "And beer. Please tell me you have beer."

"We have a pot pie," the waitress said. "And tea."

"Okay, fine. That."

She scurried away, looking relieved.

Axel leaned in towards Henrik, patting his arm. It was Serious Business Time. The chair groaned ominously.

"I lost my dad, Henrik, a long time ago. I dunno if you believe in the afterlife and stuff, but I know they're in a better place. Looking down on us. In a nice way, I mean, not like looking down in a judgey way. Ahem."

Creeeak.

"And you've got friends in the military, y'know, me and Alec and Preacher. I know they both love you."

The waitress brought out a couple of iced teas and set them on the little table. It was an awfully little table, with a frilly pale pink tablecloth. Axel rather suspected it was meant for couples on dates. Speaking of couples, maybe he should try to give Henrik some advice. He, Axel, experienced romancer of ladies, had some pearls of wisdom to pass on.

"Why don't you just ask Alec out? Only you have to make sure he knows you're asking him out, like on a date. A romantic date. You have to make it clear that it is a romantic date Henrik, because sometimes, men are not very smart. And he might not figure it out if you hint around." Axel cleared his throat. "And if he tries to fight you, like on your date I guess, you need to fight him back. Because if a girl, or I guess a boy wants to fight you, it's insulting not to fight them back. So you just fight him. If he tries to punch you, I mean. Just punch him back. Only not in his face. And then maybe you can like, make out or something later." Axel's face felt hot. He was blushing. But he couldn't seem to shut up. "So uh, right. Do that." Axel reached out and patted Henrik's arm again.

The cake arrived. And the pot pie. Axel grabbed a fork and stuffed some in his mouth to stop himself from saying anything else.

Axel took a retaliatory forkful of chocolate frosting, grimacing when he put it in his mouth and realized the frosting was slathered over a piece of chicken still stuck to the fork. "Hargh," Axel said, swallowing his chocolate chicken with difficulty.

He cleared his throat.

"At least," he said, fixing Henrik with a stern look and jabbing at him with the fork, "I didn't send her letters with flowers in them. That is a very girly thing to, Henrik."

Axel leaned back in his chair, the legs flexing with a faint whine of tortured metal. "And it seems to me, if you want to get together with a man, you've got to sort it out right away that you're very manly." He raised his eyebrows at Henrik.