It takes Antonin a good fifteen minutes to work through cleaning himself of all the grime, between fancy spellwork and good, old-fashioned hot water and soap. Another ten to deal with the stubble on his face. He looks considerably younger without the beard, though he isn't certain why this is important. Perhaps it's to do with the relative age of his fellow wizards in this strange place, and a surge of vanity.

Or perhaps he simply wants to look pretty.

Whatever the case, he's past-due when he manages to meet up with Rosier. He has absolutely no intention of staying here at the Valhalla Inn (not with the invitation from Narcissa), and thankfully there's little to pack. He's dressed entirely too much like a Muggle for his own tastes, but it's better than going skyclad.

At the offer of liquor (one he would never turn down) he takes the champagne, but also grasps the younger man by the wrist and gives him a yank upward, upright, and into an short but fierce embrace.

He's not heartless, after all, and Evan Rosier has been dead a very long time.