"I'm fine right where I am," he mutters into his glass as he lifts it for another pull. A longer one this time; by the time he lowers the glass again, he's downed most of the liquor.

His lips pull back over his teeth in a grimace at the fumes and he draws in a sharp breath as it burns down his throat. Fuck. Just… fuck. Jesus, he's exhausted. He's terrified and exhausted, and both are knotted up into a cold ball deep in the pit of his stomach that the alcohol is now setting alight to.

"Just…" He sets the glass down; he sets it down hard, the glass striking the counter with a loud clack. A nervous anger is starting to push through his veins - at Tess, at losing Ellie, at having no fucking clue what's going on. At frantically worrying about where Ellie is.

"Just tell me where the hell Ellie is. I need to see her."