“All the more reason to indulge. At least a little.” A thought that was both promising just as it was amusing. Perhaps the goat forgot that only one of them was largely immune to hangovers and the blights that came with them. The last thing he wanted to suffer through in the morning along with any manner of paper work would be a headache and the words blurring together in eyes that refused to focus upon them and their meanings. After he returned home, if it wasn't too late, he would at least begin scribbling down a brief first hand summary of what had happened near the end of things. The disbelieving tale that had struck down a large majority of those wounded or slowed by any means. A great many supplies had been lost in the chaos as well, and if for nothing else, it would be for his father's own records and family accounts to explain away any funds they had personally lost.

“Just have to check. Can’t have you fading out on me.” Still, his eyes didn't leave, disbelief not bleeding into his words. He would huff out a slight laugh, the crooked simper only growing over his mouth. "Folk couldn't get that lucky. You lot won't get rid of me that easily." He vowed, his brows rising slightly in exaggeration of the matter. He would skirt and omit the fact that one crimson bolt had been particularly close to proving that statement wrong, setting the air around him ablaze with the malady of magic so thick and pungent it rolled across his tongue like sludge. His skin had felt electric, but its target had merely been another, one he hadn't been able to recover as the ravaging storm had increased its fever to a dangerous climax.

Even the sure certainty of Destriar's footfalls had become uneasy with the sensation. The steed was not one of faint heart, nor had Lif ever known him to shy away from any dangers, more than content to threaten even wolves in the wilds with the trample of his hooves. Perhaps that had been the worst of it, sensing his companion's discomfort and ill ease when it was normally vastly non existent. The fine hairs along the back of his neck had arisen, gooseflesh marking his arms. Then his mount had carried them away, a race that was rampant and desperate to escape the bedlam that surrounded them. He knew not if the steed would have halted should he have wished it, but he had learned to trust in the instincts of animals when they knew danger lurked. Death was not far behind, nipping their heels. Lava had plumed as if the very heavens had birthed a volcano and they were within the heart of the malicious geyser. Ravenous, insatiable in its destruction. The smell of burning hair and flesh, the mixture of smog and dirt burning and blinding better than any man made diversion. Screams. Pleas. Drowned and halted with sudden finality.

“And leave a handsome man like you?” His eyes flickered to the familiar visage before him, anchoring him within the present with his playful intonation. A stark reminder that the storm had been content not to spread, that somehow, he had managed to escape that madness. His breath would suck in sharply, held momentarily before slowly released on a drawn exhale. Calming. Soothing. Quieting the tumultuous tempest within that threatened its freedom from his every fiber. He would restrain it, the soft, easy simper never leaving his boyish façade as shackles for the dark waters that yawned like an abyss just beyond. The goat would brush warm fingertips along his skin, and he was minutely surprised to find that his forearms didn't scorch the caress of the concerned hand. It aided to help further settle the anxious chaos that burned within his veins, to coax just a little more calm to bleed into them instead. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” The right edge of his mouth twisted a bit more upwards, playful wink leaving him. "That's what I like to hear. After all, I really shouldn't be left alone with this whole bottle. I'd have to find someone to walk me home then." The last tease would be spoken on a wistfully dejected sigh, as if the notion were truly so terrible.

Then came his easy admittance that he had originally come to see another's company. Lucky that he just happened to be here then, he surmised. He would give a nod, a low hum leaving him. His eyes would linger over those gathered, seeing some familiar faces beginning to drift in - should they have not been present already. Exhausted husks. Horror lingering within their stares in place of the predatory gleam that light should leave upon them. As if the warped golems had not been enough to witness and deal with, devouring fallen comrades and making them yet another piece of their amalgamations. He didn't think August would ever quite understand just how grateful that he was that the goat had not been witness to such abhorrence as they had seen. To provide just this simple shade of normalcy upon his return. Perhaps he'd been a fool not to seek him out or send word to meet him immediately upon his return. “Which gives me more time with you, and I can never complain about that.” Regardless, he would huff, his vocals still holding their teasing edge. "Well who could possibly stand you up?"

His next inquiry would have the red head staring at his cup as it was refilled. He was measured as he took it closer to himself, trying not to appear as desperate for the hazing cloud of inebriation as he truly felt. His mask was carefully crafted, expertly executed after the multitude of years that he had donned it. However, Augusts' eyes were often sharp enough to pry below its surface. That was the trouble of knowing someone for most of your life, let alone being as close as they were. His head tilted upon its axis, azure drifting back to the lycan as he tipped the cup back once again. His tongue swept his lips, gathering every last drop that lingered. "Well. Family business. You know." Once more, his cheek rested against his palm. "Lord Mikeal," he would allow a roll of his eyes as he referenced his father, "had Ulys committed somewhere." There, his smile would falter, falling into a frown. "I was trying to find out where. Then... all of this."

!