[Fizz doesn't really do 'allow yourself your emotions', not in a negative sense. He doesn't like to show that vulnerable side to him or be a burden on others, even with Oz he's more likely to laugh things off than go down the deeper route. But fuck does he want to howl right now, sob until his eyes are swollen shut and find a bed he can curl up in until Oz comes to wake him up with soft kisses and assurances this was all a bad dream.

Except it's not.

And weeping like a little bitch-baby isn't going to change that. So he needs to get his shit together, and he needs to use this like he's used fear and pain and sorrow since the fire-- by making them his fucking fuel. He will not crumble and break, he won't go down, because he's fucking Fizzarolli and there are people waiting for him back home.

He'll be Satan-damned, but he's lucky to have wound up with Regis. Those comforting words go right to his soul, and the tentative gentle closeness of his presence is much appreciated.

Looking up at his new companion with a watery sort of smile, eyes bright in the darkness with determination, he suddenly extends his arms to wind them around Regis and himself three times over in a tight embrace.]

Thanks, Regis.

[He squeezes once and then retracts his arms again, rolling his shoulders as he lets his emotion bleed out of him with one long sigh.]

You're right, we'll figure this out. Against the team up of mega vampire and cool clown, this shit doesn't stand a chance, so Oz'll just have to be patient for a bit. And if he makes trouble here somehow, we'll figure that out too.

[Right. He's fine. He's fine, absolutely fine. Push it all down, be better, be fine. It's his question, isn't it? So-- moving on.]

Uh-- okay, so... what's the one best piece of advice you have for not fucking up while I'm here? Like should I be bowing to everyone I meet, or am I going to cause an international incident if I fucking sneeze in public, that sort of shit.