The voice is younger than the others he's met, which doesn't mean the owner won't know where they hide the alcohol. "I'm kind of just getting acquainted with these," he admits, well aware that something so precious probably isn't up in the jars of candles, the pots and pans, the cutting boards. No one's given him the impression that it's all for one around here, but knowing what's available if he wants to cook for himself is a distracting enough task to take his mind off the immediate fuckery.

"But I started off looking for something to drink," he adds, closing the cupboard to get a look at her. Small enough girl, a bit oddly dressed, but he's in hand-me-down scrubs and a blanket, so who is he to judge? "The bar's empty in the other room."