Laughter bubbles up inside him. It feels a bit wrong to laugh after everything that's happened, and Lucas bites back against it, but a snicker slips out, anyway. Once that's in the air, the rest tumbles out of him shortly thereafter.

It's nice - really nice. And he's so glad for it. For Bash. Gosh, he's so glad for Bash.

While he doesn't quite forget that they're standing in the middle of a crowd, it's a lot easier to not care as much. His shoulders stay tight, his face is still red, but he laces their fingers, anyway, pulling his arms back so Bash can't easily get away. His laughter tilts up, a little nervous. "That's awful," Lucas chides, bobbing his head close, chewing on his lower lip. "You're going to write him a thank you note, right? Or send--I don't know--a fruit basket?"