last laugh protocol

Shifting in the breeze, though he follows mostly his gut. Spend enough time with someone, you learn how they think. How they see the world. If he was Idris, this is the path he would have taken. The plan, the signals, the signs-- everything without a hitch. Matija would put his trust in no one else. As he moves down the beach, gaze sharp, it's no surprise when he finally spots Idris.

Straightening up, taking off a dead run, he can't help himself. A grin slipping over his face-- genuine, for once. "You bastard, we did it." A toss of his head, and a far louder thud as he slams into his brother. Tumbling to the sand, reaching up to tug at the loose fur of Idris's cheek and neck. Tail doesn't stop wagging. Holy fuck, they'd done it. They'd really done it. He'd made it, he was whole, and his mood was too good to have fumbled the bag in the process.

"Of course not," the words breathless, grin wild. "How did you make out?" There's an edge of concern in Mati's words, in his tone, paw running carefully across the larger man's chest and shoulder.