As the rising smell of the cooking food started to fill the kitchen, Glibt undid his tie, his cuffs, and shucked off his dress shirt to reveal the t-shirt underneath. "Can't go home smelling too much like weed." He murmured as an explanation, setting the clothes aside before accepting the joint and taking a deep drag. After his first exhalation, he heard a subdued snort in the back of his mind before he sent out a mental glare and was alone in his head again to take another drag, blowing out the smoke with practiced smoothness and ease.
Glibt glanced over at Paul, lowering the mental barrier he'd constructed between him and the young mortal, lowering it just a tad so he could get a brief flash of Paul's mental state. Slightly better, but... Glibt sighed inwardly and he turned back to the frying mix of onions and bread, shifting it all around on the pan before finding their stash of spices easily, contemplating what could be used without upsetting Paul's sense of taste or his stomach. "Let me guess, this is from Thomas' stash, yeah?" Glibt would know product that came straight from Marijuana anywhere, and was easily slipping into a more relaxed tone as he let the drug go to work within him. It had been far too long.
Watching as Paul gathered various bottles from the liquor cabinet, the corners of Glibt's lips quirked up wistfully at the sight of the Cabernet, nodding at Paul's explanation. He could still enjoy the taste of chocolate, even if his mouth didn't water at the very thought of hot chocolate or chocolate chip cookies. He took his glass with murmured thanks and took a long drink before finishing it off with another puff from the joint. Glancing down at the potatoes again, he estimated they had about seven minutes until they were cooked enough to start mashing them. "Is everything stable at the center?" He asked, his gaze turning fully to Paul again, wanting to help in any way he could. "I'm on unofficial vacation this week, kind of. I could help out with anything that needs doing."