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Homelander's head is still reeling from the humiliation when they're getting ready to leave. Saved by Vic Neuman, like a little boy. They all looked at him like he was stupid. Humans, mere humans, treating him like he wasn't so high up above them they should be glad to even get to speak to him at all.
He grabs Ryan's hand and pulls his son up from the chair he spent the past fifteen minutes in, getting a front-row seat to his father's utter failure, dragging him outside. The fresh air, far from the stink of cigars, humanity, and chocolate cake, does wonders to clear his head. He's looking forward to the flight back. He'll get to claim the skies as his own again.
"Dad." Ryan is holding onto his hand like a lifeline, grip bordering on painful. "Something's wrong." The boy is practically swaying, looking up at the sky full of stars with both wonder and utter discomfort. There's immediate, instinctual alarm bells going off in Homelander's brain, and he tunes into his senses to read Ryan's vitals. Regular heartrate, no signs of injury, but his blood alcohol level is so high the smell hits Homelander like acid to the nose. Just how many champagne flutes did Ryan empty when Homelander wasn't looking?
"The stars look really beautiful when they're spinning like that," Ryan says, out of nowhere, voice entirely slurred, and doubles over to vomit chocolate cake straight onto Homelander's boots. Homelander closes his eyes, enjoying an image his mind conjures up that depicts him surrounded by heavenly light, a suffering saint. "S-Sorry," Ryan mutters, mortified, and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his 500-dollar jacket.
"I take it you won't be flying?" He doesn't wait for an answer; just makes sure to wipe his left boot on a snow pile as he hoists Ryan up into his arms.
He flies slowly, just in case, but Ryan is out like a light when they arrive at the Tower, drooling onto an eagle. The mirror is beckoning to have a word, but Homelander walks past, carries Ryan over to the bed and helps his son out of the jacket before letting himself fall down onto the mattress next to him, staring out at the night sky.
Ryan is right. The stars are beautiful tonight. And it's still the eve of a new world. Ryan was just celebrating early.