Ghira rubbed at his face, feeling the onset of fatigue settle over him. He hadn't slept a wink last night. Neither did Qrow. Instead, they both turned to what distractions seemed to quell their minds the best. The Faunus to his people, and the man to his drink. Honestly, neither practice was very healthy. Ghira could attest several times he used his work as an excuse, a crutch, so that he wouldn't have to let he fears idle in his mind for any length of time.

Qrow swirled his drink the same exact way every time, slow and methodical. It seemed second nature, a habit born of too many long nights spent in the confines of her own mind. He didn't say much when in such a mood. He would only sit in the armchair made of wicker and stew in his thoughts until something or someone demanded otherwise. There was something unquestionably broken about Qrow. Glass-like, obvious, and yet completely inexplicable all at the same time. The man was like a puzzle, in all the ways a person could possibly be one.

Almost to the point he contradicted himself at every turn.

Ghira wasn't quite sure what attracted him to such a man. He was easy on the eyes, sure. The soul was another matter entirely. "Qrow, that's the sixth glass in an hour."

"So it is." Qrow replied distantly, downing it, and then pouring another. "Goodbye number eight, and hello number nine." The gravel in his voice was deep and relaxed, the booze flooding his system calming him as he lazily downed the amber liquid.

"That's the seventh glass." Ghira corrected as he sighed from behind his desk.

Qrow shrugged carelessly. "If you say so."

A smile tugged at his lips in spite of himself, and Ghira closed the book that kept the public funds on record. Although he was the chieftain, Menagerie had several people in charge of keeping the Faunus safe-hold in order, and his accountants were among his most trusted. The rest of their recommendations could wait for another time. "It's sunrise, we'll have to be at the docks to greet the girls before noon. Don't you think you should sober up a bit for the occasion?"

"If I did that, I wouldn't be any fun."

"I'd beg to differ."

Qrow only looked at the drink in his hands, and then to Ghira. He downed it, and set the glass down. "Those girls know what to expect of me by this point."

"Everything to expect?"

At this, Qrow met the sunny yellow eyes of Ghira, not minding that he had to look up to do so. "Everything." He repeated slowly, with so much certainty that most people would find it unsettling. "Everything failure I've ever had, every success I've ever earned, and all of my bullshit in-between."

Ghira nodded, his frown carving deeply across his face. "And, when it comes to this?" He asked, looking away, only to flick his gaze back to Qrow's. Those deep and knowing eyes of his full of their usual cockiness. "To us." He corrected uneasily. It felt so right to his ears, and so wrong to his very logic. Even so, he pressed on. "When it comes to us, you expect it will go well?"

Qrow chuckled darkly. "I suppose that depends on what you mean by well."

"So, you expect it will go unwell."

"Son of a Grimm-bitch…it's not like that either." Qrow closed his eyes and stretched, his back and neck popping to his satisfaction. Then he grabbed the glass, and poured another, this time handing it off to his lover. "Look, sit your ass down, and drink that before you kill my buzz."

"I really don't think-"

"Drink!" Qrow ordered, before quieting. "Don't make me pour the goddamn thing down your throat." Once Ghira took a seat and a sip, Qrow sat beside him. His arms crossed, and he peered at the fire. They sat that way quietly, and Qrow wasn't intent on continuing the conversation so soon. He could tell that Ghira was more than a little confused, edgy, and so many other things that the hunter couldn't even begin to name. "Let me put it this way…"

He bit his lip, looking around the room. He never really wanted a home, or a place to call his own. He never wanted the dusty memories that built up in such places, ghosts of his past haunting him. Qrow had built his life around the worst outcomes, the worst things that could happen. His semblance, himself, he was a menace to those he loved, a harbinger of misfortune to those he cared about…his life, his actions, were all too difficult to predict.

He learned long ago to push away those emotions. To simply not give a damn.

"Sooner or later, you might not have an option." Qrow murmured. "I don't know what will happen, but one thing I do know is that Yang makes the most out of everything. That's how she's chosen to live. One day, Yang will come out of the closet eventually, Ghira. When she does I have to support that, even if that means pulling this whole mess right out of the woodwork."

"As a father, I've let down my child more than once. There are some things that are unforgiveable, and what if this is one of them? What if Blake runs again?" Ghira asked. "I couldn't take that."

"Take it from the king of monumental fuck-ups." Qrow said then. "She's not going to run, she might do a lot of things, but running isn't one of em."

She gripped her weapon so hard it threatened to fracture under her grip. The docks had come into view. Her parents stood side by side, waving at the boat with happy smiles. Their actions made her cringe. She never could understand why her parents were so forgiving of her mistakes, and another bubble of guilt popped in the pit of her gut like poison. She gripped Ruby's hand tighter, as if that would somehow anchor her there.

There was no time to wiggle her way out of it, not now, not with the boat so close to the port. She wanted to leave, desperately, but there was no hiding this time.

She would have to grin and bear it. She forced a smile, and a long slow breath. This whole ordeal was made only a fraction easier by the fact that the rest of her team stood at her side. Ruby cuddled in close, and though her Faunus senses told her this, her numbed mind could only do the one single thing it did the best.

Panic.

"Yang, are you okay?" Weiss asked, pulling Blake from her thoughts as she looked over to blonde headed friend.

"I'm fine." Yang said with a smirk. "Just…thinking."

"Yang, you're smoking. Your hair is literally smoking." Weiss pointed out for emphasis, plucking one wayward strand as all the evidence she needed. Weiss gently held the strand lax in her grip as the heat waved off of it. "It's only a matter of time before you catch fire."

"I'm just worried about Blake and Ruby." Yang shrugged, it wasn't the entire truth, but it wasn't at all a lie. She was worried about them, about all of them. "Big changes are going to be happening this summer, after all. Gotta keep my guard up."

"Sis, could you maybe um, not?" Ruby asked. "I really don't want there to be a fire on the ship."

"Can't help it." Yang said, her voice casual, though inwardly her chest was constricting tightly. "Gotta protect my baby sis and all."

"From who or what are you protecting her from?" Weiss could only shake her head as Yang grinned at her.

"Stuff."

"How eloquent of you." Weiss deadpanned. "Well should this 'stuff' of yours prove to be an actual threat, and not just unfounded paranoia, I'll happily battle at your side. However, I implore you to settle your semblance this instant before you become the threat and we have to throw you into the water."

"Relax." Yang grinned. "I'm cool, it's all good."

"Come on guys, we're about to dock." Ruby said happily. "Let's go make sure we have everything."

Yang swallowed hard at that. She was not cool. She was the furthest thing from cool. In fact, if she didn't know any better, she'd say she was burning from the inside out.

AYangThang: Just a short chapter, I'm a little rusty after taking a break from writing during the month of July.