The bathhouse... Fuck. He's going to have to make some repairs. And a moment later, he felt something in his hair. There's a half-hearted reflex to bat the thing away and then he realizes those are fingers. Vegas' fingers.

His fingers curl around them and he chokes again, holding on for dear life. He hated this. Hated being weak, hated knowing that he was weak, that he needed Porsche and he wasn't here and it felt like his life was falling apart and yet, he couldn't because there were people were counting on him.

And he still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that his cousin was here, helping him through with it.

"I'm supposed to be the one holding your hand."