[ The faint gleam of Set's eyes lessens, the deeper into the darkness he goes; it is without hesitation that he follows Liem into his territory, running his hands over the brocade of an innocently-existing chair and pilfers one of the pretty pillows from it. The pillow comes with him, his thumb stroking over the embroidered pattern as he continues to revolve slowly, taking in all that Liem has done with his time. The comfort of a home astounds him. In fact, this is the second home he has been in — the first being Sebastian's, in Highstorm. There were some quaint similarities, but Set would be the first to admit that Liem's home felt real and warm and clearly was beloved by him. Sebastian's was akin to a showroom, made all-too perfect for guests, and reflective of nothing personal. ]

How ironic then, that the ascetic now finds himself in the company of a grand hedonist.

[ Excess was all Set lived for, at times. Drink, drugs, company, conversation, even sex when he was addled enough to partake. To meet someone like Liem was akin to meeting one's eternal opposite, to be mildly frustrated by the denial of delights and pleasures. In the kitchen, he gives pause to watch as Liem fetches a second cup ( polite of him ), and murmurs: ] You need not prepare me anything to eat.

[ A mote of honesty from the god of war, as he continues to stroke the texture of the pillow. ]

I — I do not like food. It makes me ill, even though I must eat. And drinks are, ah. Well, I suppose I will accept what you offer in that way. I am often a poor guest, because of these things.