"Hm." It meant Ilmenite got, mostly, a view of leather pants pulled taught over a rear most men would be interested in. He could appreciate it himself, of course, in a passionless sort of way, but he didn't linger -- instead settling in beside her to pull hair back out of her face, in a familiar sort of way. He'd been here before. On both sides of the drunk-to-sickness situation.
"Vanadinite. Not bad. No plaid shorts or dangly bits, consider yourself lucky there." He shook his head a little bit, patting her on the shoulder with one gloved hand. "Take a couple deep breaths, and then we can move out of here. Get a glass of water, maybe. Talk."
