"I'm fine," Marty protests as Liam tosses the scarf around his neck, but past that he doesn't put up a fuss. His nose and cheeks are too red to be convincing, and besides, the scarf is warm and smells nice. Rather than fight, he leans in when Liam uses the fabric to reel him in, and gives up the flask. "Mahasiah disagrees," Marty responds, "But you can warm me up any time you want." He waggles his eyebrows, just in case the innuendo wasn't clear.

It only takes Marty a second to register that they're racing again and to take off after Liam, laughing. It's a fairer race this time, but Liam still has a head start and longer legs. He can easily clear obstacles and take stairs two at a time, and though Marty hardly gets left in the dust, he can't ever close the gap. It's clear, though, that he didn't let him win, because when they stop, he's panting again, resting a hand on the wall to catch his breath. He may like Liam, but he has never let anyone beat him at anything without a fight. "Shit. Next time," he vows between breaths.