He follows her, lingering a half-step behind. He is not terribly predisposed to partake in celebratory aftermaths, familiar as he is with the practice in theory. Prolonged contact with that amount of nonproductive function could never successfully obtain his interest.

"Completely unwillingly, I assure you," he says dryly. "And by 'supplies' I assume you mean a method by which we can get completely fucking smashed."