"No doubt a product of your galvanizing influence," he says peevishly. Forcing himself upright, he groans and pushes his hair back from his forehead before looking around for his boots.

"That's just some broken glass," he calls without needing to look -- it's not like he's in the habit of keeping sharp things in his flat, but he did have a fit of temper a few nights ago and throw things around. A broken bottle or a broken glass figurine; it's probably one of the two. "Try not to cut yourself."