Terry was sat on a crate in one of the nicer stretches of the Alley, hugging a dozing Deillion close, looking tired and worn out. His very stance - hunched over and defensive - suggested he had had enough and was very close to just giving up.

"Hey, Terry, dude...?" Blake began, unjustifiably nervous, "Like, I'm sorry, and whatever..."

Terry sighed, hunching further, and rubbed his free hand over his face, a day's worth of stubble and bags under his eyes making it clear how rough things have been for the man recently. "Forget it, Blake."

"Look, like," damn that conneticuct accent slipping into things, "if me and Cerise and everyone crashing here is like, totally bullsh*t or something, then, like...we can go. We...we shouldn't be messing with the timestream anyway. We could just go back, to before, to the moment Elissa threw Mi and Frances into that room, and...make like this never happened. Gabe would still be alive, Midona would still be bound to her court, Sherry and luka would still be on the streets, Seth and Deidara would still be normal, human...it would solve a lot." Blake finished, resigned to the truth of his words, "It would suck, because I actually kind of like you, and I know Mi's gotten very attatched to some of the fae around here -not to mention to Seth- but it's the way our lives were...meant to be, I guess."

((Oh Godddd Blake don't talk like thaaaaat~!))

Terry looked up at the boy, pain in his eyes. "Do... do you realise what that would mean? It wouldn't just take you away from me. It would take away my s-son." Terry's voice cracked on the word as he glanced down at the young boy sleeping in his arms. "My son. I would be alone again. All alone. With nothing."