[Jezebel smiles slightly at the laugh. In truth, he's aware of how odd this is, and how clinical his tone is. He was better at this sort of thing when he was lying about who he was, putting on airs.

At Ianchus' offer of a drink, he plucks an errant bottle of whiskey off of a counter outside the bedroom before returning back, leaning against one of the walls and taking a swig, watching as Ianchus clears up.]

Mm, I imagine we can make do without them. I could always use the sheets.

[Said with a slightly wicked smile, before he takes another sip of whiskey.]