"Oh, football turned me into a huge jackass," he points out, not even denying that. He's come a long way, and he can admit his failings from back then. That said, he also can't help but brag when he has the chance as well.

"Though my abs then were nothing compared to now," he says with a snort, tugging up the hem of his shirt and baring several inches of tanned washboard abs. "I work a lot harder at them now instead of accepting what being a teenager and playing sports gave me," he says, patting his abs, sighing softly "Well, at least if I die in all this I'll leave one helluva good looking corpse," he says, making a face. "Not that it'll matter, organ donor and all."

Well, his brain has definitely gone to morbid places, even though he's been trying so hard to hold himself together. If nothing else for Alex's sake, though it's him fearing how he'll react if he lets himself crack.

"You forgot where your dad tried to kill me, and our family legacy is torture," he mutters, shaking his glass. "I should have brought more ice in. You got an ice bucket?" Because if he keeps letting his thoughts go there, he's going to ruin a lot of years of good eating and working out in a single night.

"Oh! Hey! At least none of us have an evil twin?" Looking on the bright side, right? "My luck would be if anyone has a twins, it'd be Max."