[ Ian can't help the small smile at Mickey - just being himself, yelling at the maid who cleans up the pastry he'd dropped. It's so familiar and so undoubtedly Mickey, that for a moment it feels like nothing has really changed.

When in reality, just about everything has. The Mexico roadtrip, the decision not to go with him and the goodbye at the border. Returning to Chicago to Monica's death and the chaos that unfolded afterwards with the family.

But he accepts the offered extra pastry with a nod and tears off another bite, shaking his head.

It's still delicious, mind you. ]

I was... It's only been a few days since we... parted ways. [ Guilt burns bitter in his stomach, but he pushes it down, eyes flickering up to meet Mickey's. He'd made his choice and he had to live with it. It doesn't make it easier to see him now - and he'd like nothing more to jump his bones here and now like none of it happened. ]

I was at a funeral. Monica's. Um, we were heading home and after that... nothing. Woke up here with a hell of a hangover.

You?