[Javert sighs, long, slow, hoarse. Finally. Finally, he thinks wearily, another of Her Priests understands. After he had allowed Ryou Bakura to take his head for how he reacted to that event, and after so many refused to see the bigger picture of what an attack on the Fog meant...

And all he feels is exhaustion.

He watches Amanda bleakly as she moves from fit to fit, her fury and upset threatening to blow her top, and recognizes how he's overburdened her by letting his mouth run, and run, and run, merely to try and get her to understand. So rather than inundate her with more immediately, he presses a palm to the bridge of his nose and slides over to his liquor cabinet.

He fetches a good, strong whiskey and pours it straight for them both.]

It makes no difference now. The method is nothing but ashes.

Please, do not get swept away. I must apologize to you, Mademoiselle. I've been a damn ass and let my mouth run off unbridled, not a lick of tact. It has been... too long... since I have spoken freely.

[He offers her a glass.]

Drink. I will tell you what you want. But remember you only just returned. Do you need me to fetch someone to eat, or have you got it handled?