He sucks the air through his nose as he tries to decide if he means to say that all of them reek of loneliness or alcohol, but he resists the urge to sniff his clothing to see which he should debate. It's no secret how often he drinks, and as he says, he's not alone. Just because he's recently decided he should refrain from overdoing it while people are out for his blood is besides the point.

"How could I be lonely, when none of you ever leave me alone?" Dragging him to evil restaurants when he could have just slept until the cold passed. He stabs at the omelette in front of him and takes a too-large bite. Like that's somehow making a point for him. No depressed person takes a bite that big.

"Why is it always a smell?" He's sure he's asked before, but he's more insistent after he took a jab at him. "You're always saying stuff like that. Is it a power, or some kind of magic?"