He kept an eye on her, guiding her all the way there. As much as a part of him would want her in his bedroom, there's a much larger part that would be terrified of what she'd see. Walls covered in carved words, painted words, slashes and marks everywhere. A gateway into his brain, for the most part. An absolute, horrific mess of abusive and terrifying words that he hears on a regular basis.

But enough of that.

He led her into the kitchen, pulling out the firewhiskey, and the small vile of potion. He quickly, haphazardly mixes up the concoction, handing her the glass back, and taking a large gulp of his own.

"Haaaa, fuck...I hope I don't get too out of hand for you!"