[ Oh my god magic beer. Fortunately, Charles' mood is keyed down enough that the most he does is give a delighted grin and draw the glass back to himself, testing coolness against the palm of his hand. He settles his chin into the palm of his other one. ]

It's a bit odd, actually. Because you're quite right, but at the same time, it puts everything on a bit of a freeze, doesn't it. Our time has ceased to progress. The injury that so neatly cleaved our allegiance is healed, and sometimes Erik acts as if all else is healed, and sometimes I'm inclined to let him. Because we're in a giant horror tin can floating in fucking space.

[ --stated mildly. Sips beer. ]

Ah, well. Perhaps the worst either of us can expect of ours is heckling. That'd be good.