Padraig was used to the welcoming interior of Patrick, Clio and George's house, and what he wasn't ready for was the squalor that lay behind Patrick as he opened the door, bleary-eyed and clearly drunk out of his mind. Patrick didn't even greet Padraig and Andrew, instead leaving the door open for them to come in if they wanted while he wandered away back to the sofa.
Padraig glanced at Andrew and nodded. It was much worse than he had even imagined. Patrick was visibly thinner than even he had been when he left Ireland, and even then he had already lost a significant amount of weight. He didn't just have a beard, it was like his face had grown a gigantic, ginger shrub which was now out of control. Padraig wasn't even sure where Patrick's mouth was, and he was fairly certain there was vomit in the beard. The entire floor was littered with beer cans and empty bottles and even ash from cigarettes, which Clio would have murdered him for.
"So you live in a dump now?" Padraig asked, without a greeting, since Patrick hadn't offered one either. PAtrick just grunted and went back to nursing his latest bottle.