[ He blinks at that, because he has no idea what she’s talking about and then just assumes it’s something that makes more sense when she’s drunk.

Reaching behind him, he fishes a handkerchief out of his pocket and reaches to clean off her face for her with an indulgent fondness. ]

It’s still your home, sweetness. No one’s taking that away from you. Your room is there and waiting for you, just like how you last left it. And I promise to protect you from any more octopus…ses? [ Now is probably a bad time to try to remember what the plural of octopus is. Especially because she’s not in any state to appreciate terrible innuendo right now. ]