Kamala using her powers to pet a currently-docile demon is a sight that Five can't look away from. If he were sober, he might say something about attracting attention, but even then he wouldn't be anyone to talk. He blinks at will even when they're warned against showing their powers, and aside from that, he's been walking the streets with a hellhound in tow nearly any time he leaves the villas. He's been anything but low-key.

The last question hits him strangely. He wasn't expecting her to be the first to get serious on him. His mouth opens and shuts again as he reconsiders what he was about to say. The bourbon suddenly seems less helpful.

"I'm good." A good boy, his mind calls back in a voice that sounds suspiciously like Dolores. More mocking than amused; she thinks he's being irresponsible. Or she would, if she were here.

He clears his throat.

"Someone killed the Chained God, so no apocalypse." In theory, but he's had so many would-be-apocalypses at this point that he can't help his reaction. No one can blame him for reaching a limit on doomsdays.

"I'm good. I'm... probably in some trouble, but that's expected when you're working for the undead. Right?" So he hasn't yet heard about how the vote went for Messalina, and for a moment it doesn't feel like the most important thing. "The world isn't ending and I've got my dead brother back. None of it makes any sense, but I'm not complaining."