"Yes, I seem to remember rather forward offers of teaching me to dance," Nida smirks at Tommy as he settles back against the wall, letting his eyes drop a bit closed. "The vodka is Sam's make, the beer comes from the Boss. I may have pilfered both supplies, so this stays between the three of us. And... I guess we drink to life."

Because that just the most logical thing to call for, right? After all the pain, the separation, the loss? Life seems the right choice. Unless someone else has another suggestion. The suggestion that Billy might hug him, though, has him shooting a quiet look at Billy. One that is almost as if to say 'if you need it, but only if you need it.' Seemed like Tommy wasn't going to be the only stubborn one on physical affection tonight. For a different reason of course.

Meanwhile he swirls the glass of alcohol in his hand and contemplates it. Should he even drink? Sorta not a thing he really does. Last time he did he sort of unloaded on that old guy Picard. Happy Birthday or whatever. That had been the night he met Tommy. The night he and Billy truly started down the road they were walking now. Not best life choices night.

"To life. To family. To friends."

Fuck it. He throws back a damn good swig.