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By now, Dareth’s gotten pretty good at sensing when Garmadon has appeared for their lessons, but every now and then the guy still manages to get the jump on him.
It’s well past 2 AM on a Thursday when Dareth finally ushers the last plastered patron out of Laughy’s with a bottle of cold water and a pat on the back. He’s just locking the doors, only to turn around and have a minor heart attack when he finds Garmadon standing silently in front of the back door.
“Cripes, you scared me!” Dareth exclaims, patting his chest to calm his beating heart as he walks over. After months spent seeing Garmadon a few nights a week, the ominous effect of his presence should have died a little. Alas, he remains as frightening as ever until he speaks.
“My...apologies?” he sounds out carefully and Dareth beams.
“Alright! You remembered from last time!” He pulls a sticker sheet out of his apron pocket and peels off a metallic blue star to stick on Garmadon’s hand. “Good job with courtesy, man.”
Garmadon inspects the sticker for a long moment before evidently resolving to leave it where it is. He’s gotten remarkably patient about this kind of stuff in the last month or so—which is considerable progress, considering the first time Dareth tried to award him a sticker, he ended up in a headlock.
“Hey, c'mon, what’s the rule?” Dareth says as he starts stacking chairs. “Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten it now, you know better.”
A soft growl of displeasure rumbles in Garmadon’s chest as it always does, but he carefully begins removing his armor, one piece at a time until it’s sitting in a neat pile on the counter, with the helmet on top. Dis-armoring always does wonders for Dareth’s general ability to not freak every time Garmadon looks slightly peeved; it makes him look a great deal less impenetrable. Dareth finds himself watching as Garmadon stretches all four of his arms, the muscles in the broad expanse of his back rippling. The sight remains novel every single time.
Garmadon turns, amber eyes flickering down to meet his and Dareth glances away with the oddest feeling of guilt. He ignores it and clears his throat.
“You ready to get started, Garm?” Dareth asks, hitching up a bright smile. “Because it’s time for a pop quiz!”
Garmadon settles on his barstool and folds all four hands neatly in his lap. His silver marks, like ribbons tracing his skin, glint under the dim light. “I am ready.”
Dareth claps his hands together. “Cool, here we go. First scenario: if someone tells you it’s their birthday, you say…?”
“Happy birthday,” Garmadon answers.
He raises his eyebrows.“And…?”
“I do not like cake, but I will attend your celebration.” Garmadon looks at him sideways, clearly monitoring his response and Dareth gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Exactly. Save them the trouble of making a whole invitation and let them know you’ll be there anyway,” Dareth says sagely. “It’s the courteous thing to do. Okay, good job. How about this one: you see a cat stuck in a tree and a little kid trying to get it down.”
“Easy. I summon the proper authorities to fetch the feline.”
“Hm. Your reasoning being?”
“My visage will most likely scare the creature further and my weight could break the branches. Calling the authorities is the proper procedure,” the Lord of Evil recites dutifully. Dareth breaks into a smile and claps approval.
“Okay, last one,” he begins, coming around the bar to begin wiping the counter down. “You’re walking down the sidewalk when you see an old grandma about to cross a busy street. What do you do?”
Garmadon frowns, face in deep thought. He clears his throat and announces, “I have a few clarifying questions.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“Is she wearing a strand of pearls and are they real?” he asks.
“Duh, she’s a grandma. And yes, they’re family heirlooms.”
Garmadon hums thoughtfully, stroking his chin. “Does she appear helpless and vulnerable?”
“Like a baby kitten.”
He makes a noise of interest, like a purr in the back of his throat. “And does she look wealthy in any sense of the word?”
Dareth leans forward. “Oh, she’s visibly loaded.”
There’s a long silence as Garmadon meditates on it. Then, at last, looking slightly pained, he says, “...I help her cross the street and bid her a good day.”
“Yeah! Wow, good job with that one! You had me worried with those questions, man,” Dareth tells him excitedly, patting him on the arm. “Way to do the right thing!”
“Hmph. Naturally.” Garmadon doesn’t exactly smile but his face does that funny thing where it goes all soft and weird, as it usually does when he receives praise. It always looks slightly out of place on his menacing face, but Dareth can see how it would have looked warm on a more human one.
“You know, big guy, you’re getting awfully close to graduating Sensei Dareth’s Remedial Human Classes,” Dareth comments as he wrings out the rag and puts it back in the bucket. “I mean, look at you go, you’re like a pro now! Hey, go put on some music and help me close up, will ya?”
“Do I have permission to play something other than the Jamanakai Boys?” Garmadon asks wryly, rising to his feet. Before Dareth can open his mouth, he adds, “No Royal Blacksmiths. I have not forgotten your rule.”
Dareth grins up at him. “Then sure thing, boss. You know how to do it, right?”
Garmadon’s grunt is positive, but it takes him at least a full minute to use a single clawed index finger and punch in the song he wants. Finally, an upbeat rock song starts playing. Dareth frowns and cocks his head as he recognizes it.
“Huh. Didn’t peg you for a Vortex fan,” he says as Garmadon begins stacking chairs on the other side of the room, making quick work of it with his four arms. “You been discovering music without me, Garm?”
“...Vortex is a favorite musical act of Lloyd’s,” Garmadon says after a tense pause, not looking at him. The line of his shoulders is taut like a bowstring. “He went to a concert of theirs recently. I am simply trying it out.”
“Hey, good for you, that’s great!” Dareth exclaims, lighting up. He managed to say the kid’s name and everything! “That’s some A-plus dad behavior right there, you know. And all by yourself! Proud of you, big guy.”
Garmadon’s nod is stiff but he looks quietly pleased with himself as he pushes the stack of chairs to the side. Confident that he’s occupying himself with work, Dareth darts into the kitchen to fetch a crate of clean glasses from the dishwasher and carries them out. Grabbing a spare cloth, he begins polishing them and lining them back up on the rack. On the other side of the bar, Garmadon remains methodical in his organization of the furniture.
“Oh, by the way, I have a story for you,” Dareth pipes up as they work. “You’re gonna love this, right? Okay, so you remember last time I mentioned one of my regulars is a serial dater…”
He launches into an epic and only slightly-embellished retelling of some customer drama to fill the space. Garmadon, despite improving greatly in his general levels of compassion, remains tight-lipped when it comes to sharing anything about himself or what he does during the hours that he isn’t at Laughy’s. Luckily, he never seems to mind when Dareth has news for him and there’s nothing he likes more than a patient listening ear. Even if Garmadon never makes much of an indication that he cares about the story, he occasionally asks a question or makes the appropriate noise to show that he’s still listening, and that’s enough for Dareth.
“...and the cheating dentist was Mary ,” he finishes dramatically, just as he sets aside the last glass.
Garmadon’s eyes widen just slightly. “The same Mary from the—?”
“From the supermarket incident!” Dareth exclaims in agreement. “I was like, whoa, crazy! Small world, huh?”
His companion merely raises his eyebrows in a vaguely acknowledging way. Dareth prides himself on having become very good at reading these wry little microexpressions, so while he recognizes the expression for what it is, he also senses the quiet absence to it, lurking just under the surface. Hm. Time for a little intervention.
“Hey, Garm. You know I’m serious about you being ready to graduate, right?” Dareth says, untying his apron. “You’ve been doing really well lately, man. I think you’re about ready.”
That seems to catch him off-guard and he looks down at the tabletop with a mirthless smile
“You are kind to me,” Garmadon says briskly. “But you overestimate my progress.”
“Come on, who’s the sensei here, you or me?” Dareth asks, pointing at him.
“Technically we have both been considered senseis at one point or another.”
He scoffs. “Alright, smart guy. You know what I’m trying to say.”
When he hears no response, he sets down the glass and rag, frowning. “Where’s the sass tonight, pal? Is something on your mind?” he ventures, leaning his elbows on the counter.
Garmadon laughs humorlessly, his mouth twitching up in the slightest smile. “Am I being very obvious?”
“Nah, man. It takes mad skills for me to read people the way I do,” Dareth tells him solemnly. “Just another one of my ninja powers. Anyway, I’m getting some real bummer vibes off you, you wanna tell me what’s up?”
Garmadon doesn’t explain immediately. First, he finishes pushing the final table against the wall. Then he laces both sets of fingers together and presses his lips together, as if gearing up for something important.
“Will you ask one of your questions so I can interrupt?” he requests, after a second.
Dareth, understanding what he needs instantly, is all too happy to comply. “Wait so, if you have six limbs, does that technically make you an inse—,”
“My son’s birthday is this weekend and I’ve prepared a gift,” Garmadon says in a rush. Then, as an afterthought, he adds, “And no. I do not possess an exoskeleton or any other insect qualifiers.”
“Good to know,” he says. “A gift?”
“A...gift.” Garmadon examines all four of his palms with interest. “I thought you might consider being the one to pass it on to him for me.”
Dareth's face falls and he heaves a long sigh.
“What?”
“Well, I was saving this for later, but I think you might want this now,” he says gravely, reaching for the cocktail shaker. “Hold tight for me.”
A few splashes of cranberry juice, black raspberry liqueur, and vodka later, he’s dropping mint leaves and a maraschino cherry into the glass, before pushing it across the counter.
Garmadon approaches, eyeing the purple drink skeptically. “What is it?”
“I’m thinking of calling it the Four Arms,” Dareth says with a shrug. “Try it.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes and the face he makes is more like his old self than ever. “Dareth—,”
“It’s fruity,” Dareth warns him, relentlessly cheerful. He crosses his arms, shifting back on his heels. “But it shouldn’t be too sweet. I tested it, you know.”
Garmadon doesn’t look away from his face as he takes a sip and swallows, his eyes like molten gold. “It’s...it’s very good.”
He nods. There’s a self-congratulatory spiel he has prepared on the tip of his tongue, but Dareth swallows it down in favor of leaning forward to carefully clasp Garmadon’s hands in his own. His palms are like hewn stone, rough and calloused.
“Garmadon.” The rare bout of seriousness itches under his skin like a rash, but he forces himself to commit to it. He’s an adult; he can do this. “I’m a ninja of many abilities. I bartend, I save people, I teach. But I can’t give Lloyd your gift. You know that.”
Silence reigns. The music briefly quiets to allow for a text tone, before resuming at its usual volume. At last, Garmadon breaks eye contact and looks away, shoulders hunched.
“I know,” he confesses, his voice low with frustration. “I—,”
“You’re ready,” Dareth interrupts, squeezing his hands tight. He grins at Garmadon encouragingly. “Man, I’ve spent years with the kid, and I promise he cares more about not losing another birthday with his dad than whatever you picked out for him.”
“I remain uncertain that I can be a suitable father for him,” Garmadon protests. “You think it’s easy, but it’s not that simple.”
There’s another text tone over the speakers. Dareth ignores it.
“Trust me, pal, as your teacher, you’re ready to be back in his life. And I’m saying that as someone who spent a lot of time watching that little green guy grow up,” Dareth insists. He tilts his head, holding steady eye contact. “If you keep being afraid to do it, you’re just gonna miss more time with him. And it’ll be your loss because he’s a real great kid.”
There’s a pause. Then, Garmadon lets out a soft laugh, and for once, it looks genuinely felt. He pulls his hands away from Dareth’s in order to rub his face, looking weary. “Good god. You are a force to be reckoned with when you’re earnest. No wonder it’s so rare.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m always earnest,” Dareth says with a beam. “Anyway, I’m just trying to look out for you two. It’s what friends do.”
“Is that what we are,” Garmadon says sardonically, arching an eyebrow and Dareth clicks his tongue.
“Ah, ah, ah, don’t try to deny it. We’re the best of friends.” Voicing the sentiment makes his chest feel like a shaken-up can of soda and he can’t contain a goofy grin. “Oh, hey, I’ve never had a best friend before.”
Garmadon studies him with a bemused look. “And your first one is the most loathed villain in all of Ninjago. Congratulations, Dareth.”
“I’m not hearing a denial there, bud,” Dareth points out cheerfully and Garmadon sighs.
“Hmm, well, you are a very foolish and altogether vapid personality, with an excess of unearned confidence,” Garmadon comments musingly, before his voice gives way to something more honest. “But you have also been unduly kind, patient, and good-humored towards someone you have every reason to fear and hate. You’ve looked out for my son when everything was against him, and you have named a drink after me. I think I would do myself a disservice to reject your offer of friendship.”
“In other words, beggars can’t be choosers,” Dareth says brightly, and then cracks up on his own behalf. He saunters over to his phone as Garmadon snorts behind him. To his delight, he has two new messages!
lloyd green ninja
Hey, dareth, u at Laughy’s rn?
I’m in the area, can I stop by?
Sent 2 mins ago
Dareth frowns. That’s unusual. It’s not like Lloyd to drop in, especially at this hour.
“Hey, Garm,” he starts slowly, looking up. “I think you might need to go?”
Garmadon looks surprised and sets down his drink. He’s almost finished it, bless him. “What?”
“Yeah.” The panic begins to set in and he hurries over to shoo the Emperor of Devastation to his feet. “Yeah, you gotta — I dunno, hide, or go somewhere. Lloyd just texted me, and—”
“Lloyd?”
“That’s what I said! Anyway, he just texted, I think he’s—!”
Garmadon is halfway through the door to the kitchen when a familiar head of blonde hair comes through the back door Dareth had left propped open due to the summer heat. Curse the necessity of a cross-breeze!
“Hey, Dareth," he says cheerfully. "Sorry to barge in like this, the door was open, so—”
Lloyd Garmadon stops dead in his tracks, frozen as he takes in the scene. In a bout of adorably identical but incredibly inconvenient behavior, Garmadon goes dead still as well. The room suddenly goes so quiet that Dareth hears himself when he audibly gulps.
“Heyyyyyy, Lloyd,” he says, scrambling to muster a big fake grin. His mouth has suddenly gone so dry. “What, uh…what are you doin’ here, bud? Pretty late for ya, huh?”
“Dad?” Lloyd whispers, his eyes wide as plates. His mouth trembles.
“I,” says Garmadon, his eyes flickering uncertainly to Dareth.
Lloyd takes a single shuddering breath and then pivots and goes running out the door.
“Aw, nuts,” says Dareth, heart sinking like a stone. And before he can think too hard about the horrors of cardio, he makes up his mind. Shooting Garmadon his most confident smile, he says, “Don’t worry, pal — I got this.”
With that, he takes off after Lloyd.
There’s no chance that Dareth is going to catch up with Lloyd, he knows that. The green ninja has a head start, and besides, he’s pretty light on his feet with all the training he does. Luckily, Dareth doesn’t need to be as fast as his young friend, because he already knows where Lloyd is going. That gives him enough time to figure out what he’s going to say when he gets there.
“‘Me and your dad, we’re in a bit of an arrangement,” he rehearses and then shakes his head. “No, that’s terrible. What about… ‘Lloyd, your dad and I have been talking, and…’ Ah, that won’t work.”
He’s still muttering lines under his breath as he climbs up the fire escape of the abandoned building on 28th and Field. Panting, he peeks over the edge of the building and spots his target curled up in the corner of the rooftop, hugging his knees. With no small amount of effort, Dareth hoists himself over the wall and lands in a heap on level ground. Which suits him just fine, given how terribly out of breath he is.
“Hey, bud,” he says cheerfully in between huffs. “Gimme a second here. You, uh…whew…. you get speedier since last I saw you?”
“Go away,” Lloyd mumbles into his knees. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Dareth pushes up to a sitting position with a frown. “Aw jeez, kid, c’mon. Are you mad at me?”
The kid's shoulders hunch. “What do you think?”
He sighs and dusts himself off as he gets to his feet. In a few short strides, he’s crossed the rooftop and crouches down next to the kid. He pauses, pondering what to say to make things right.
“It’s been months,” Lloyd whispers, not looking up. “Months without a word from him. He didn’t even say goodbye when he left, even though… even after…”
There’s a soft, sharp intake of breath here. Dareth’s heart aches.
“And now, this.” The green ninja’s voice turns abruptly angry, and he finally looks up to regard Dareth with an ice-cold glare. “I find out he’s with you, for some reason, that you’ve been harboring him like some sort of… criminal! For months, you’ve been hiding him, and you never said a thing! I can’t believe you, how could you? I thought I could trust you, I thought we were—!”
Dareth crushes him into a hug.
“Easy,” he says softly, rubbing his back. “Slow down, there. It’s okay to be angry, but give me a second to explain.”
He feels it when it happens, when Lloyd’s harsh breathing gives way to shuddering gasps and tears start to soak into his shirt. It doesn’t frighten him. Dareth just keeps rubbing his back in slow circles and waits for the silent sobs to abate.
“So,” Dareth says, when Lloyd pulls away at last, swiping at his red-rimmed eyes, “—this isn’t really my place to say, but I think you gotta cut your old man some slack.”
Lloyd’s voice cracks. “He left me, Dareth, again—”
“I know,” he says soothingly, squeezing Lloyd’s wrist. “I know he did. But you don’t know what he’s been doing the past few months. He’s been working real hard and being real brave.”
This is enough to shock Lloyd into momentary silence and Dareth wastes no time pressing on: “He and I have actually been doing some work together,” he explains. “I’ll let him tell you about it if he wants to, but bottom line is, green bean, your dad loves you a lot.”
Lloyd just scowls. “Loved, maybe. Before Harumi brought back…whoever that is.”
“He’s not the same he was before,” Dareth concedes, tilting his head. “But he’s still your dad. And he’s still trying to be in your life. You gotta understand—he’s scared, kiddo.”
“Scared?” His fierce glower wavers. “What does he have to be scared of? He’s…he’s evil incarnate. He doesn’t care about me. About what I think of him.”
Dareth just tsks, shaking his head. “You’ll see,” he says fondly. “Just trust me on this until the two of you can talk. I promise you won’t regret it.”
Lloyd stays quiet for a moment, digesting his words with a wary look. After a long moment, he swallows and nods.
“I’ll think about it,” he mutters. He looks so much like a kid in the moment that Dareth can’t resist ruffling his hair.
“Jeez, you’re way too adorable,” he sighs as Lloyd ducks away, nose wrinkling. “What are we gonna do with you, huh?”
“Don’t baby me, I’m way too old for that,” he complains. Dareth laughs to himself.
“Sorry,” he says, smiling. “Hey, Lloyd?”
“Yeah?”
“Invite your dad to your birthday party,” he advises. “Trust me.”
“Alright." Lloyd peers up at him through his fringe. "Will you… I mean, will you pass along the message?”
He grins, relieved. “Kid, it'd be my pleasure.”
When Dareth gets back to Laughy’s, Garmadon is sitting at the bar, knocking back a shot. By the looks of his drooping head, it’s not the first one he’s had. Oh boy.
“Mm, Dareth,” Garmadon murmurs as he enters. “Hello. Have I ruined everything?”
“No,” he replies, grabbing a stopper for the whiskey bottle on the counter. “You’re alright. He invited you to his birthday.”
Garmadon peers down at his empty shot glass, licking his lips. “I see.”
He’s quiet. Oddly so.
“Well, honestly, I thought you’d be more excited about this,” Dareth says lightly, searching his friend’s face. What he sees there makes his chest hurt. “Garm, you’ll go, won’t you? This is—I mean, this is what we’ve been working for this whole time, right?”
Garmadon sighs and props his chin up on the heel of his hand. He doesn’t speak for the longest time, and Dareth wonders if maybe he’s just too drunk to finish this conversation. But when at last he opens his mouth, his voice is surprisingly steady.
“You know,” he begins in a soft voice, “—in all your months of inquiry about me, you’ve never asked about my marks.”
Dareth looks at the obscure patterns that decorate Garmadon’s inky skin. “Your marks?”
His eyes are very gentle. “Ask, Dareth.”
“Alright.” He clears his throat nervously, though he’s not entirely sure why. “Why do you have those markings, then?”
“The markings,” Garmadon says, turning over his hands to examine the faint silver threads, “—are shared by all Oni. From birth, they trace the contours of our bodies like armor to remind us that our people and our purpose are one and the same: we are weapons of war. We are conquerors.”
He pauses, throat bobbing as he swallows, and then adds quietly, “I suppose, in these last few months, I had forgotten that. I thought, with your help, I could relearn how to be human, as I once was. As my brother has no trouble being, though we share the same blood.
“Well, I remember it now. Lloyd has no need for a father like me in his life, and I cannot choose what I am." He looks up, his mouth curved in the most peculiar sadness. "Thank you for your help, Dareth. Even if I was a lost cause.”
He stands in a heavy motion. Against the light streaming in from the alleyway, he is a hulking, stooped shadow. Dareth watches as he turns and heads for the door.
“Wait.”
Garmadon pauses on the threshold and Dareth feels something bright and burning roar to life in his chest. Summoning all the courage he has in his body, he takes a deep breath and declares in his loudest voice, “You’re being a coward!”
It takes a second for his words to process, and then Garmadon’s jaw, honest to god, drops.
“I’m. I’m sorry ?”
“You are!” Dareth exclaims, jutting out his chin. He rises to his feet as well, chest puffed. “Lloyd needs you! He wants you there! Why are you running away now?”
Garmadon blanches. “I told you, I —,”
“You say you can’t change what you are, but you’re wrong,” Dareth insists. The words are rising to his tongue like they never did before, bubbling up like lava. “You have done nothing but change your whole life! I may not be the sharpest tool, but I read the legends. I’ve seen it! You were a hero and then a villain, a father and then a teacher. A snake and then a ghost—and then a zombie! You figured out how to make yourself an extra set of arms and everything! You keep reinventing yourself, over and over. And now, suddenly, you want to chicken out of doing it again? What do you have to be scared of?"
Shocked, still silence.
"What do you have to be scared of?" Dareth repeats imploringly. "If you’ve done it before, you can do it again. Garm, you can be the dad he needs. You can still change.”
Garmadon's chest rises and falls once. Twice. And then— “But how can you be sure?”
Dareth thinks back on the last few months. Long late nights spent at the bar, rehearsing scenarios and drinking together. He thinks of all the sticker sheets they’ve gone through and the way Garmadon looked so pleased with himself the first time Dareth told him he was making the right choice. He thinks of listening to music—how he discovered Garmadon was a die-hard Royal Blacksmiths fan, and his face of determination earlier tonight when he put on Vortex. He thinks of how many times Garmadon has helped him stack chairs and close up, almost mindlessly, like he hadn’t even noticed he was helping.
“C'mon, pal,” he says fondly. Something deep in his heart is opening like a doorway. “Don't you see you already have?”
EPILOGUE
“Are you sure this is alright?” Garmadon grumbles, fumbling with the collar of his haori. His second pair of hands clutch tightly to his gift bag, which Dareth has helped him lovingly package. “I’m not too dressed up?”
“It’s good to be dressed up,” Dareth counters. “Shows you care.”
“And you won’t look at the gift?” he asks for the umpteenth, frowning. “Just to make sure it’s appropriate, I mean.”
“Nope,” Dareth says, popping the p. “Trust yourself, Garm. You’re his dad. You got this.”
“No, I don’t,” he snaps, and then stops. His brow knits. “That was rude. I, er—,”
“You’re fine,” Dareth assures him. “You’re nervous, I get it.”
His companion bristles, nostrils flaring as he huffs an exhale. “I am no such thing,” Garmadon growls, glaring at the door before them. “I’m an Oni. We fear nothing.”
“Half-oni,” Dareth says, and ducks away when Garmadon snarls a warning. “Alright, alright. I’m only teasing. You got this, boss. Just go in there and do your best.”
“I’ve got this,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m an Oni and I fear nothing. I’ve got this.”
“Go ahead,” Dareth encourages. When Garmadon still doesn’t move to open the door, he nudges him, smiling crookedly. “Hey. Garm. Y'know, this is the part where you open the door, right?"
Garmadon’s eyes flicker back to him, bright like two golden coins. He runs his tongue over his teeth for a second, hesitating.
“Listen. After this is over…" Garmadon blinks quickly, looking remarkably unsure. "Well, I feel I ought to buy you dinner, or something of the sort. As thanks for…whatever this has been.”
Dareth blinks and cocks his head. “What, like a date?”
Instantly, Garmadon explodes into a flurry of disclaimers. “What? Nothing of the sort! It was never implied—If you saw it that way, I don’t know what that has to do with me! I was simply proposing—as a token of appreciation! I mean, of gratitude, or, or payment or something? I—,”
“Garmadon,” Dareth says, amused. He reaches over and takes his hand. Squeezes it. “Like a date?”
Garmadon blinks. Dareth thinks that if he were capable of blushing, he’d probably be bright red right about now. “Oh. Well. I suppose so.”
“Great,” Dareth says, beaming. “Let’s do it.”
As if planned, the door to the monastery opens up right then, and Lloyd pokes his head out. Behind him, a small crowd is clustered in the courtyard, the ninja and Wu numbering among them. Beside him, Garmadon jumps to rigid attention.
“Hey, Dad,” Lloyd says. There’s an unreadable look in his eye, something cagey and anxious. “Um. Long time no see.”
“Lloyd,” Garmadon greets stiffly. He seems to have frozen. “I. That is to say, well.”
Dareth gives him a hearty thumbs up. Like we practiced, he mouths encouragingly.
“What I mean to say is, happy birthday,” Garmadon finally says, eyes softening. “And—I’m sorry I’m late.”
Lloyd studies him for a second and then nods, an almost imperceptible light appearing in his verdant eyes.
“Thanks," he says. When he smiles, it's genuine. "You should come in, both of you. I already told the others you’d be stopping by, so I promise they'll be on their best behavior.”
Garmadon nods. "Thank you. Thank you for welcoming us."
Dareth follows the two of them into the courtyard with a light heart and a giddy spring in his step. Father and son reunited, the beloved green ninja’s birthday, and he’s got a hot date on the horizon to boot! If this isn't the best-case scenario, he doesn't know what is.
Yes, indeed, he thinks with a happy sigh. Everything’s coming up Dareth!