He waves a hand. "If you count a box of chocolates thrown at my head this morning as things going well." (He does, in fact, count it. Avery does 'romantic' gestures like a dog being forced to let go of something they shouldn't be chewing on. It means much, in its own way, that he can manage them at all.)

"Am I not allowed to look after the wellbeing of my friends?" He tilts his head to the side, eyes keenly watching him in the dark. "Surely you know by now that you're not unimportant to me."