Despite everything, Vincent still thinks of Irahl as the little guy out of the two of them. Not in height, necessarily (though that inch-or-so difference does help him keep an arm up comfortably over his shoulders), but in how something about him just seems kind of young. Inexperienced, maybe. Especially when they have small interactions like this.

He lets him lean there, feeling fond and protective and similarly overflowingly grateful that they've somehow made it a little longer. He takes a sip of his drink, which is the only reason he doesn't say whatever overly sentimental 'love you, man' or 'I got you, buddy' has come to mind. Instead, he has time to think just enough to get them back on track.

"Y'know, I know a gal who bartends back home, maybe she'd take pity on me an' let me try it out for a day..."