Coffee helps. Coffee always helps, at this hour when her life is beginning to resemble some kind of ridiculous farce-- at least she's never bored, it's never dull. For all that there is familiarity, it's interesting how even her own reactions catch her off-guard, sometimes; it isn't the choice that intrigues her in herself so much as the impulse that immediately precedes it, whether for or against.

She wonders if she gets more introspective when she's been drinking. Likely.

Benevenuta sets down the second mug on the low glass table in front of Lucius, and sets herself down beside him. “Let me see.”

Perhaps it is, in its way, vaguely complimentary that she assumes he must be injured somewhere she can't see as well as the knock in his face, and not just that he's backsliding towards Hobo Chic again.