According to Clarke, Bellamy was born to be a college professor.
"I'm pretty sure you're going to get home and you'll be, like, immediately fifty with one those tweed jackets with the elbow patches and salt and pepper hair and tons of bitterness. Like, you'll walk into your office and instant transformation. It's your destiny."
"You don't really sound very upset about that," he observes.
"If I thought you weren't going to be hot at fifty, I wouldn't have married you," Clarke says, and pecks him on the cheek. "You're gonna do great."
"I'm not even teaching today. School hasn't started yet. I'm just doing admin stuff." He pauses. "So, wait, if I stop being hot, are we getting a divorce?"
"Basically immediately," says Clarke. "But don't worry, you're naturally cute, you'll be fine."
He leans down to give her a quick kiss. "Yeah, yeah. Have a good day at work, okay?"
"You too. Play nice with the other kids, don't get in any fights, and when you suddenly turn fifty, I want you to have wire-rimmed glasses, okay?"
He rolls his eyes. "I have had a job before. I'll be fine."
And he really thinks that he will. It's moving into his office and going to a faculty meeting, getting some planning done for his classes, maybe working on some articles. Everything goes exactly according to plan, until the faculty meeting.
Clarke fucking cackles when she tells him.
"How do you get in a fight at a faculty meeting?" she asks. "I was joking."
"It wasn't, like, a fist fight," he grumbles. He's got his head in her lap and she's playing with his hair while he holds a towel against his face.
"You say that, but you have a black eye, so I'm not really buying it."
"I think that was an accident. She wasn't actually punching me. She just hit me in the face. According to, uh--this guy in the biology department, Numair, I think? She's a martial arts instructor, so if she really wanted to punch me it would have been a lot worse." Clarke laughs again, and he glares at her with his one good eye. "Aren't you supposed to be on my side?"
"I am on your side. I'm just saying, it's a little funny. You got a black eye at a faculty meeting."
"Well, she was wrong," he grumbles.
"About what, exactly?"
Bellamy considers coming up with a lie, but Clarke is his wife and his best friend and he will eventually forget about the lie and she'll laugh at him even harder for trying to hide it in the first place. Besides, she'll get a kick out of it. "Immortals."
There's a long pause, and then she says, in strained voice, "That movie with the Superman guy?"
"She thought it was cool!" Clarke is laughing again, and Bellamy finds himself smiling a little as well. He can't help it. "She's a history professor, Clarke! She specializes in classical civilizations, and she thought that movie was cool."
"How did this even come up? At a faculty meeting?"
"We were talking!"
"And did you guys apologize and make it up, or did you double-down on a ridiculous disagreement and now you've decided you two are going to be enemies for the rest of your lives?"
He moves the towel off his eye so he can really look at her. "How long have you known me?"
"So, what's your nemesis's name?"
She leans down to kiss his forehead. "I'm proud of you, babe. One day, and you've already got an eternal rival."
"What can I say? I'm efficient."
Clarke meets the Classics department pretty early on into Bellamy's teaching career, but she doesn't get to meet his weird nemesis until some horrific fundraiser at the end of his first year at BU. It wouldn't be so bad, except she's pregnant, which means she's not allowed to drink. Bellamy isn't drinking either, in solidarity, but their rich-people drinking games were basically the only thing that got them through these things before.
"You should drink," Clarke says, leaning against his side. "For me. Drink for all of us."
"You will be so much more miserable if I'm drunk and you have to take care of me and keep me from embarrassing myself in front of my bosses," he says, putting his arm around her shoulders and giving her a quick squeeze. "Thanks for coming to this."
"You've come to years of shitty events with me for my mom. You don't have to thank me for finally coming to one with you. This is what our wedding vows were about. For better or for worse."
"That wasn't in our vows. We wrote our own."
"And I still don't know what the Greek part of yours meant."
"Not word for word," he admits. "But you know exactly what it meant."
She's saved from responding by a woman's voice saying, "Professor Blake."
Clarke recognizes Alanna Cooper despite never having met her, because there cannot be that many tiny, muscular redheads who work with Bellamy and look vaguely like they want to murder him.
Alanna's eyes flick to Clarke, and she looks mildly surprised. "Wait, I thought you were gay. Is your name Clarke?"
"That's me," she says, offering her hand. "Nice to meet you."
"You too," says Alanna. She frowns a little. "Is that water?"
"I'm pregnant. If I'd known this party would fall during the pregnancy, I would have waited on reproducing."
Alanna snorts. "Anyway, Blake, we're bailing. Numair said I had to invite you. Although if your wife is pregnant you might not want to come. We're going to my husband's bar to do shots with my mostly sober best friend and Numair's unde--" She pauses and rethinks whatever she was going to say. "Numair's lovely wife, Daine."
"I don't mind if you get drunk with friends," Clarke tells Bellamy. "Also, I really don't want to be here."
"We're not friends," Bellamy and Alanna say at the same time.
"It'll get us out of here?" Bellamy offers, giving Clarke a small smile, and she just grins.
And that's how they end up at the Dancing Dove, which Clarke has seen in passing and had been pretty sure was a really sketchy dive bar, and--okay, it is, but it's actually clean and well lit and fairly quiet, and there are babies hanging out behind the bar.
"This is George," Alanna says, sliding behind the bar to lean against the bartender. He is a full foot taller than his wife, with a nose that's way too large for his face, but it works on him. And, again, he has twin babies with him, which seems weird, but it's Thursday and not too late, so the place isn't that crowded. And they're not tiny babies or anything. Based on Clarke's research, she thinks they're probably a year and a half old. "George, my colleague, Bellamy Blake, and his wife, Clarke."
George raises his eyebrows in a way that suggests Alanna complains about Bellamy in basically the same way Bellamy complains about her. "Pleasure," he says. "First round's on the house for anyone Alanna's ever punched."
"That is not true at all," says Alanna.
"Anyone Alanna's ever punched I don't throw out," George says, inclining his head. "Anyone she punches by accident. Or who doesn't deserve it."
"He probably deserved it," Clarke says, and Bellamy rolls his eyes. "I'm pregnant, so I'll take water. Bellamy's drinking for two."
"I'm drinking for half a person, seriously," he protests. "I'm not getting wasted, Clarke."
He probably means it, but then Jonathan Conte shows up.
Clarke's heard of Jon Conte, and she sort of vaguely knew he lived in Boston, but she was not expecting him to show up, jump on Alanna's back, and say, "You look so weird when you're dressed up fancy! How many shots can I do at once? You'd think it's two because I only have to hands, but George also has two hands, so--"
Bellamy is playing darts with Numair and his very pregnant wife, so Clarke raises her eyebrows at George, since he's the one she's been talking to most. He's a cool guy, chill and laid back to his wife's somewhat combative personality, and a doting father, which she appreciates given she's kind of freaking out about motherhood in six months.
"He only drinks one night a month now, because his husband stopped drinkin'," George explains to Clarke.
"And he still thinks he's a frat boy," says Alanna, dumping Jon onto the stool next to Clarke. He blinks at her.
"Did we make a new friend? We never make new friends."
"This is Clarke," George says. "She's married to that guy Alanna hates at work."
"You will have to narrow that down," Jon says, cheerful. George gives him a shot and he immediately downs it and slides it back for another.
"The one she doesn't really hate," George says.
"Just because he speaks Ancient Greek doesn't mean he knows more than I do about Ancient Greece," Alanna grumbles, scowling at the entire room in general, and Clarke grins.
"Sorry, but he probably does. No offense, he's just--he's such a giant nerd that when he was four he named his baby sister after the Emperor Augustus's sister. You have to work pretty hard to get to Bellamy's nerd level."
Alanna scowls. "I do have a PhD."
"You're both doctors who work at the same college," George says, with a fond amusement that suggests part of why he married Alanna is that he thinks it's cute when she gets angry about things. "I think it's safe to say you both know plenty about Ancient Greece."
"Yeah," Alanna grumbles. "But I know more."
Clarke and George exchange a smile, and then Jon starts yelling about shots for the room, and Clarke's not even convinced Bellamy knows he's drinking, it's just impossible for him to not get caught up in the tornado that is Jonathan Conte's alcoholism. Clarke is honestly amazed she doesn't get drunk by osmosis.
"I was going to be sober," he says, with some bewilderment. He's half draped over her as they walk home, and Clarke kind of loves it. Some people don't like being surrounded by drunk people, but she tends to just find it hilarious when Bellamy is wasted. He's very affectionate and confused. "How am I not sober?"
"You got wasted with a celebrity. Two celebrities, even." It was a little disconcerting to realize Bellamy's rival was also Alanna Trebond, whom Clarke remembers getting disowned when she was in college for complicated, gender-related issues that were never that clear in the articles, but it's kind of cool, too. She's always happy to meet other rich girls who have difficult relationships with their parents. And Alanna's are so much worse than hers, which is nice. "George says Jon's going to be president someday."
"Is it weird I'd probably vote for him?" Bellamy asks, after a moment of consideration.
"Nah, I would too." She squeezes him around the waist. "I like your friends," she says.
"They're not my friends," he grumbles, and Clarke just bumps her hip against his.
"If I were the jealous type, would I be jealous of this?" Clarke asks.
George likes Clarke Griffin enough he's a little sad they don't see each other more. She's smart and dedicated, like most of his favorite people, and she and her husband both seem to enjoy developing irrational grudges on people and then being amused when the other does it, which is cute. He's not that much older than they are--Bellamy and Alanna are the same age, he thinks--but he still feels a vaguely fraternal kind of affection for them, even if he only sees them at BU events.
"Jealous of what, exactly?" he asks. They're at a faculty picnic, and it's honestly not bad. Aly and Alan are playing tag with Sarralyn and Diana, while Alanna and Bellamy are being over-competitive about croquet, which neither of them seems to know how to play. Not that they're letting that stop them.
"I dunno. I used to be his weird rival he secretly liked," Clarke muses.
"Ah. Well, I think once you get married, it stops bein' a secret that he likes you."
She laughs. "Yeah, okay. But still."
"I think not bein' the jealous type is more about the person you aren't jealous about," he says. "You know he's not interested in anyone else. Some people just like havin' that kind of friend. The kind that isn't."
"I know. It was an academic question, seriously. I'm so bad at being jealous of people, like you said. He's been in love with me since he was seventeen." They watch in silence for a minute; Diana is It in the tag game, but she's the smallest, so George worries for a minute, until Alan trips on purpose and lets her tag him. Alanna seems to be trying to make up new rules for croquet involving whatever the stick in the middle is, and Bellamy is having none of it. "They're kind of cute, right?" Clarke asks.
"The cutest," George agrees. "Course, I think mine's cuter, but--"
Clarke pats him on the arm. "It's okay if you're into my husband. I don't blame you. You guys have a lot in common, literal bastards married to younger, angry rich girls, like being right all the time--it's totally understandable. And you should see him with his shirt off."
"I've got no complaints about how Alanna looks with her shirt off. Best of both worlds--muscles and breasts."
"True," she says. She offers her fist and he bumps it. "We lucked out, huh?"
It's with some horror that Alanna realizes she needs to say goodbye to Bellamy Blake.
Numair's the one to bring it up, after an all-faculty meeting. As usual, Bellamy and Alanna managed to get into a shouting match about budgets, because it's not an all-faculty meeting without the two of them fighting about something. Alanna's pretty sure if the meeting goes too long without a fight, Bellamy has an actual list of topics to bring up that will piss her off.
"Have you mentioned to Bellamy that you're resigning?" Numair asks.
She frowns. "No, why?"
"Because I assume he'll want to know," Numair says, with his usual stoic calm. It's very annoying, Alanna muses, that Numair manages to come across as sage and wise in all matters relating to her life, while remaining a total disaster when it comes to his own. Alanna is an all-around disaster, and it's unfair that Numair manages to fake competence in some fields. "The two of you have been butting heads for ten years, he's going to have to find someone new to argue with."
"You're not worried about me?"
Numair grins. "You're going into politics. I have no doubt you'll find plenty of people to argue with."
"Blake's a dick," Alanna says. "I'm sure he will too."
But Numair's right. The two of them aren't friends, not really; he doesn't come to hang out with them at the Dove and their kids don't have play dates or anything. But they do usually find each other at faculty events and he knows about her complications with gender identity, which isn't true of all her colleagues. He even calls her Alan, the few times he's seen her as Alan, and has the exact same arguments he has with Alanna. And that means a lot.
There are things she will miss about Bellamy Blake, things that aren't even limited to his kickass wife and cute kids.
He's in his office when she goes by, hunched over a book with a pen in his mouth. Alanna isn't convinced he has a pen in his mouth every time she sees him, but it seems to happen a disproportionate amount.
She knocks on the frame of his open door, and it occurs to her suddenly that she's never actually gone to his office before. This is her first time visiting, and he must know too, because he frowns in confusion before his face settles into a scowl.
"Professor Cooper," he says.
"Can I help you with something?"
Alanna clucks her tongue, thoughtful. "Can I come in?" she finally asks.
"Sure." He sobers at once when she closes the door, puts a marker in his book and stows it, pushes his glasses up and looks at her with actual concern. "Is everything okay? Do you need something? What happened?"
She smiles a little. "Nothing bad. I just wanted to let you know--I'll actually be leaving at the end of the year."
He blinks, and Alanna feels her hackles raise. If he thinks it's weird she's telling him this, she's going to murder him. But he doesn't; he just says, "They didn't fire you, did they?"
She snorts. "That's your first guess?"
"I mean, you don't know shit about Ancient Greece, so--"
"Fuck you, Blake," she says, mild. "Jon wants me to do politics with him."
"Huh." He considers. "So, is the plan that you're going to get in all the fights Jon can't get into because he has to pretend to be diplomatic?"
"Basically, yeah. He's planning to be president in a few years, and he wants me involved, so--" She shrugs. "I'll be out of your hair in a few months."
"Cool," he says. "Good luck with that." There's a pause and then he says, "You guys have my vote. For what it's worth."
"Thanks." When she smiles, he smiles back. "It's been fun, Blake."
"Hey, we've still got a few more months of faculty meetings to get through. No way I'm going easy on you just because you're surrendering."
"Surrendering? I'm going to--" He grins, and she has to laugh. "God, you're such a fucking dick."
"Right back at you."
He comes to her going away party, and they hug, and it's actually a little moving, until he says he actually likes the Disney Hercules movie, which, come on.
It's possible she'll miss him. Just a little.
"Okay, this staring has progressed past that girl is cute into I am being a creeper territory," says Diego, and Alan rolls his eyes and shoves him.
"I'm not being a creeper."
"Look, you can't always recognize it from the outside, okay? That's why I'm here. I'm here to tell you, as a friend, that it is creepy for you to stare that much. Like, it might be weird at this point if you talk to her. If she has pepper spray, you're screwed."
"I'm pretty sure she hasn't noticed." He runs his hand through his hair. "I'm not being creepy, I swear. I think I know her."
"Fuck, you're such a fucking nerd. If you know a pretty girl, you say hi to her. This is basic shit, Alan."
"No, seriously. I can't figure out how I know her."
The girl is pretty--long black curls with streaks of green, thick-framed glasses over bright blue eyes, a ring in her nose, and a spattering of freckles on her tan skin. Alan is not exactly great at picking up girls, but he'd definitely think about it, even if she didn't look so eerily familiar. He has definitely met her, but--how could he forget someone like that?
His stomach drops when her friend nudges her arm and jerks her head in his way, clearly telling said pretty girl that some creepy guy is scoping her out, just as Diego predicted. But when they make eye contact, her whole face lights up, and she makes her way through the tangle of people to him.
"Not gonna lie, I really did not think this one was gonna work out for you. You really know her?"
"Apparently," he says, and offers a shy smile when the girl stops in front of him. Alan's not as tall as his father, just under six feet, but the girl is about his mother's height, a good five inches shorter than he is, and she has to look up at him. He completely, totally knows her, and he still cannot figure out how.
"Alan Cooper, right?" she asks.
"Yeah, uh--this is really embarrassing," he says, feeling his cheeks heat up. Diego isn't exactly wrong about the fucking nerd comment; this is the single party his roommate has convinced him to go to this year, and until he spotted the girl, he had been planning to bail out as soon as possible. "But I can't--I've been trying to place you for like ten minutes and I can't, I'm so sorry."
Her smile widens, delighted, and his own smile strengthens a little, even though he has no idea what's happening. "No, you're good, seriously. We haven't seen each other in like--ten years or something? My dad used to work with your mom, when she was at BU."
He feels his jaw actually drop. "Diana Griffin?"
"Yeah! Hi!" She tucks her hair back behind her ear, still grinning, and Alan laughs a little.
"Hi. Wow. I didn't--I had no idea you went here."
"Yeah, I'm a sophomore. You?"
"What are you studying?"
"Um. Astrophysics," he says. It's one of those majors that doesn't tend to go over well with girls at frat parties, but, as Alan remembers, his da's explanation for why Ma and Bellamy Blake didn't get along in the first place was that they had a long-standing rivalry over who was the bigger nerd, maybe Diana won't think it's too boring.
She immediately proves him right by saying, "Awesome! I took an awesome astronomy class last year, but I don't think I could do the major. I haven't declared my major yet, but I'm leaning toward education. I've got a part-time job at the children's museum. Working with your Aunt Daine, actually."
"Oh, wow. That's awesome. Your dad's still at BU?"
"Yeah. And your mom's in the cabinet now, right? With Jon Conte?"
"What about your sister?"
He grins. "Bartending in New York City, moving in with a guy she knows from the internet. There are not words for how pissed Ma is."
"Just your mom?"
"It's complicated for Da. He's a bartender, so he's sort of disappointed she didn't go to college but also proud she's following in his footsteps. They had the worst argument I have ever heard them have about it, which is saying something. How about your brother and sister?"
"Hector's a junior in high school, he wants to go to Stanford. My parents are kind of anxious about him going across the country, but my aunt and uncle live out there, so I think they feel slightly better. Selene's in ninth grade and mostly pissed that she has four more years of high school to go. Mom tried to tell her that she met Dad in ninth grade, so it's not all bad, but that really just freaked all of us the fuck out." Alan laughs, and Diana grins. "Seriously, every time they mention it it's just terrifying. How weird would it be to be fourteen and you meet someone and you're like, yeah, this is it?"
Alan technically knew of Diana Griffin when he was fourteen, and he doesn't even remember meeting her. He hasn't always known her, but he's known of her in a vague way. She'd been a person within his awareness, and then she'd left it again, but he would have known her name. And he knew her face, even if he couldn't put the two of together.
Still, looking down at her at a terrible party, a stupid, helpless smile stuck on his face, he can't help thinking that, yeah, it really is weird, meeting someone and knowing with sudden clarity that, yeah, this is it.
"So, who's going to freak out more?" Diana asks, flopping into Alan's lap. "My dad or your ma?"
At twenty-one, Alan Cooper is surprisingly like Diana remembers him at eleven, messy red hair, big nose, bright hazel eyes, a little gangly. He is a giant nerd, which, according to her mother, is a genetic weakness she cannot avoid. Which, as genetic weaknesses go, isn't bad. They could have a history of heart disease or something.
They've been hanging out for two months and dating for one; Diana mentioned in passing to her mom that she'd run into him at that party, but she hasn't told anyone in her family she has a boyfriend. She's never quite sure about relationship etiquette for that; when is she supposed to tell her parents? It seems pointless to tell them about something that might not last. But--Alan is sweet and funny and she really, really likes him. If it doesn't last, she's pretty sure she's going to have to go home and let Mom feed her ice cream while Dad barely resists the urge to call Alan up and yell at him for breaking his daughter's heart. So she's going to tell them she has a new boyfriend, and Mom will be happy and Dad will be totally over-dramatic about it, like it's some sort of Romeo-and-Juliet situation, because Dad loves being ridiculous and over-dramatic. It'll be fun, and she'll feel better. She doesn't like not telling her parents things.
"Huh, tough call," says Alan, tapping his chin.
"I like how there's no question that after ten years, our parents will still hold onto an irrational feud about nothing, instead of just being happy we're dating."
"To be fair to them, I'm pretty sure they're also going to be happy we're dating," he says. "Or--not specifically happy we're dating each other, but happy that we're happy." He clucks his tongue. "Your dad, definitely. Ma'll just be happy I'm dating someone I didn't meet on the internet."
"Plenty of people meet on the internet now, I still don't see why she's so pissed."
"Because it's Aly," says Alan, with a half-smile. "Ma and Aly fight about everything. She was so psyched when I told her about you, she wants to be best friends with your dad."
Diana sits up, surprised. "You told Aly?"
"We're twins. I tell Aly everything."
It makes her feel kind of warm and fuzzy, and she tucks herself against his side, wrapping her arms around his waist. "What did you tell her?"
"That I ran into you at a party. She saw through me in like ten seconds, because she's Aly, so she was just like, you're going to marry her, Ma's going to freak out, I'll be the good child for a full five minutes."
"This was after the party?"
"Aly's always looking for opportunities to be the better twin," he says. "She got all of Dad's craftiness."
"Okay, so, we're thinking my dad will freak out more and prove Aly wrong? Because if your mom cares more about the internet thing than my dad, you're still going to be the good twin."
Alan grins. "I'm always the good twin. Spoilers."
Diana lets out a long breath. "Okay. I'm calling my mom."
"She's my mom! I always talk to her about boys! She's the ultimate resource. She's bi, so she can talk all of us through relationship crises. Don't pretend you aren't going to call your da."
"That's because Da is a bartender, he's the one who gives advice for a living. Ma's idea of dealing with feelings is assuming she's sick. We go to Da for everything."
"Whatever. It's Saturday, I generally can't call one parent without calling the other anyway."
"You're really going to make me witness this conversation?"
"If you don't hear it, how are we going to know which parent freaks out more? We have to be objective, Alan. You're a scientist, you should know how experiments work."
"You're right, I can't believe I screwed that one up."
As usual, Clarke Griffin is the kind of mother who will, inevitably, pick up her daughter's calls on the first ring and assume something is wrong, even though it never is.
Diana loves her mother, she really does.
"Hey, Diana! Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine. I need you to settle a bet I've got with my boyfriend."
There's a pause, and then Clarke says, "You know you can just call and say, hi, Mom, I have a new boyfriend, right?"
"That's so much less fun. And we really do have a bet we need your help with. Is Dad there?"
Diana puts her feet in Alan's lap. "Because my new boyfriend is Alan Cooper, so we're trying to figure out if Dad or Secretary Cooper will be weirder about it."
There's a long pause, and then she hears Mom say, "Hey Bellamy, I've got the best news ever!"
Diana giggles into Alan's neck. "Definitely my dad," she tells him, and she is not wrong.
"Professor Blake." Alanna pauses and then says, "It was a beautiful ceremony. I'm sorry I couldn't help out more."
"George was around," Bellamy says, inclining his head. "And he said you didn't plan your wedding either, so we weren't really expecting much. I mean, I knew you were incompetent, so--" Alanna elbows him, and Bellamy grins. "How are you adjusting to life in the private sector again?"
"Pretty well. Thinking about going back to teaching, actually. Jon can stay in politics, but I think I'm done. People cared too much when I lost my temper."
"Huh," says Bellamy. He takes a drink of his champagne, watching Alan and Diana dancing. It's weird, watching his daughter get married; there's no feeling of loss or anything like that, because--honestly, any parent who thinks their daughter belongs to them until they get married is creepy as fuck, but there is the strange sensation that his daughter is all grown up, which is terrifying. He still remembers when she was born, this impossible person he and Clarke made, remembers her first boyfriend when she was nine and a boy in her class gave her a valentine, and then the next day he said it didn't mean anything and she got sent to the principal's office for kicking him in the shin and telling him he shouldn't toy with people's affection, remembers how terrifying it was to send her off to college, even though she was still in town.
And now she's married to Alanna Cooper's son.
Clarke and Hector are hanging out with Daine and Numair's family, and Selene is waltzing with Raven, over-the-top and ridiculous, while Wick and Numair argue about, well, he can't be sure, but odds are good it's robots. It is a beautiful wedding, if he does say so himself.
"BU probably needs another history professor," he says, finally. "And they hired you once, so you know their standards are low."
"And they haven't fired you."
"Exactly." He takes another sip of champagne. "You know they agreed any kids are getting our last name, right?"
"Clarke's last name. You don't actually get credit."
"I'm the one who decided our kids would take her last name, so yeah, I'm counting this one as a win for me."
"I can still talk them into Cooper. We've got a few years before they reproduce."
"Oh, come on, would you rather have grandchildren who are barrel makers, or mythological half-lion, half-eagles?"
Alanna opens her mouth and then closes it, and there's a momentary pause before she breaks out laughing. Bellamy does too, and it's--nice. He hasn't exactly missed Alanna, doesn't really think about her much at all, but it's been kind of nice, seeing her and her family again.
His family now, in a way.
"When you put it like that, there really is no argument, is there?" she asks, grinning.
"That's basically how I convinced Clarke, yeah."
Alanna raises her flute of champagne to him. "We did pretty well, didn't we, Blake?"
"Yeah," Bellamy agrees, clinking their glasses together. "We're doing all right."