Apponitments - [ IC ]

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[Hearing the obvious fact of the matter stated from Robert calms him more than the whiskey could. He knows, logically knows that Robert is just as mortal and fallible as he is here. That he isn't the omnipresent pain in the ass he knew when they first met.

Well...when his memory told him they first met...before the artifice was all stripped away.]

Okay.

[He offers back, sounding a lost and sad shell of a man as he goes to the bottle Robert poured from and serves himself another glass...

and another...

and a final third before he sits down.

This one, he doesn't finish in a gulp. This one he watches, as if he's expecting it to get up and walk away. Perhaps, subconsciously, he wants it to.]

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[Robert watches him for a few moments, watches the final drink, and tilts his head.]

At least there's no price on anything here. That's very good whiskey you're not even bothering to taste.

[An... almost kind way of remarking on it.

Kind, especially, for Robert Lutece.]

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Shut up.

[He spits it and feels anger rise in him like bile; acidic and harsh. He chokes it down with the rest of his glass, mostly just to spite Robert and his goddamn sensibilities.]

It's drink. I'd take the worse moonshine ever created right now.

[If it got me drunk.]

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Which is precisely my point.

Treating it like you would any swill. It's a waste of good whiskey.

[Such a supportive not-brother.]