[ midnight lets him. kaveh understands that he is being indulged. it is not a kindness so much as it is a necessity - because midnight had only brought up speaking about the thing in his pocket when kaveh showed he was unwilling to do it. this isn't a decision that kaveh particularly wants to make, but none of the decisions that kaveh typically has are ones that he wants to make. it ought to be enough that he is looking the hurt, the grief and the terror in the eyes and channeling it for something other than just flagrant self-pity.

it ought to be. kaveh looks. and then, because city hall looms in the near distance, he pulls out midnight's can of beer. the mango one comes to hand. he tosses it over to him, and without another word, downs half of the cider that midnight had procured for him earlier. there's not enough alcohol content in it to burn his throat, but it scalds anyway, as if something unseasonably warm. ]

Drink. [ kaveh says, breathing out, and doesn't manage to cough. ] I don't want to be too sober for this, and you might not want to be either. [ there's a lump in kaveh's throat that won't go down. kaveh forces it anyway, and the words come. they always do: ] Because I'm about to tell you how my father died.