The cheeseroom was a dark and dank affair, but that suited Maalech's mindset at the moment. He had found himself a comfortable position on the floor at the far end, crossing his legs in an attempt to meditate. it was hard, he found that simple mantras that had once been a part of him like a second skin just fled like spiders up the walls, leaving him restless and anxious.

It was not that the situation had gone over differently than he had thought, it was that his own reaction to it had been unexpected.

He had felt hurt. How long had it been since he had felt that? Could he even remember?

He had lashed back. That was juvenile.

So he tried to think, and tried to centre himself, failing miserably on both counts.

There was a sudden feeling as if the room had hiccuped ever-so-slightly and a bottle bumped up against Maalech's shoulder.

Morgan smiled a bit and leaned against one of the walls. "Welcome back," he said simply.

"There are most likely a guard outside, make sure we are not heard." The words weren't exactly the world's most friendly greeting, but from the look of things Maalech was almost moping.

The look he gave Morgan was tired, he seemed in even worse shape now than when he had been in the wreaths. "It is good to see you" he finally settled for.

"A guard? What... oh, yeah." Morgan chuckled a bit, looking around the room for a moment before saying, with a somewhat lower voice, "Well, I've seen worse prisons. What is this? A cheeseroom?"

The man smiled a bit and slid down beside Maalech, passing him a bottle of something hard to define that was absolutely alcoholic. "Likewise. Nothing on you for when you were a little one, but I like you better as an adult." He scratched at his chin a bit before venturing, "So. You holding up okay?"

"Possibly" Maalech looked around. "I am not in the habit of storing cheese like these people. I will have to take their word for it." He accepted the bottle without comment, taking a drink after he had sniffed it cautiously. Of course the moment he did, he shivered and had to stifle a cough. He was not a man used to strong drink.

"I am certain you are in the minority of what you prefer." He sounded bitter, which was odd coming from him. "I am... adjusting I suppose would be the best term for it. I still remember everything." he handed the bottle back to Morgan.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time people disagreed with me. Won't be the last," replied Morgan with a smirk, clapping the other man on the back. "Good stuff, eh?" He laughed a little. "Seems that this Puck-thing doesn't like to just let people wipe away. Which is a shame." Watching Maalech quietly, he took a pull from the bottle. "Memory is a bastard."

Was Morgan a little bitter there? Perhaps that's just what philosophizing sounded like coming from him.

"We'll have to get you back to Cnoch-na-Niall. Or get Seth down here. Or something. He just got himself back, too. Seems about as happy about it as you are."

A little lie, but why not?

Maalech shook his head. "It does not work that way." He sounded rather unsure when he said it, as if he was busy trying to figure out how things did work. Normally he would ave known, but not now.

"There are consequences. Your former Order might have been closeted morons, but they understood that." He reached out for the bottle again, taking another drink.

"I am not sure what have changed, but if anything ever will I cannot walk away."

"No. Nothing ever does. Which is a shame," mused Morgan with a shrug. "Well, do you think you've changed?" He smiled a bit at the man, a part of him feeling oddly paternal.

Which was really fucking odd.

"I have" Maalech nodded, giving Morgan a sharply annoyed glance. "Enjoy it while it lasts. I suppose you have earned the right to feel superior for a little." Considering what he had put Morgan through he had to admit that turnabout was fair play.

"I'm sorry" he shrugged. "It seems that I have come out with thinner skin than I would have liked."

"Superior? Mal, I'm a chronic fuckup who's only really good at hurting people. Anything I do that can be construed as 'right' was probably an accident, manipulation or done by someone else while I took credit." He sighed a little, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before reaching into his coat and producing two halves of a clay seal and handing them to the man.

"Thought it'd set you to rights with your magic. Aly damn near melted her fucking feet off getting those runes off before I realized how badly I fucked that up."