If pressed or pointed out- York'll blame the booze and headrush of having been bent backwards- but as Locus hauls him up he goes further, arms around his shoulders, one leg hitching up in a tango's embrace, head dipped forward to hide the sudden bright flush on his cheeks. He's- cocky but not pretty. That self assured 'hell yeah I got the girl and all this' sort of blew up in a bad way with one grenade awhile ago. "Doesn't hurt to hear it now and then."