Minds can lose themselves in their own labyrinths, ( he says, a man who is mind, heart, and body, much to Lan Wangji's lamentations. Only there's naught else he manages to say, before the door opens, and the imposing figure of a smiling male nurse inserts himself into the opening, meticulously groomed, meticulously pleasant. )

Apologies, sirs, but the patient is needing more rest still. Visits should be kept short, to not add confusion.

( Sliding inside, the nurse looks to Zenobius. )

Does the good sir require assistance with relief? It's good to see you drinking so much, ( he says, his eyes meeting Wei Wuxian's with a warned, get off with ye ) it's important for keeping a body well.

( Wei Wuxian stands, offering Zenobius an apologetic smile and a nod of his head. )

I'm contactable if you reach out for one called windstorm, and I promise to return, if you continue to tolerate company. Think about it!

( Of his returning? Of reaching out to the Merchant? Of both, or more, or what happened, or where Matthias's mind might have led them all. Men who could think themselves into labyrinths could find terrible solutions to horrible things.

After all, parts of him knows he could, with the right wrong motivations.

Then he's thrusting the empty carafe into the nurse's hands, smiling beautifully at him, fluttering his lashes for effect and out of annoyance: )

I leave him in your capable hands, ah?

( And he's swept out the door, leaving behind the faintly foreboding impression that he was watching in case those hands delivered less than their best. )