Aberforth just nodded in response to his thanks, toweling more glasses dry as Frankie lifted his own up. It wasn't an odd toast, all things considered, sad though since he had no control over whether he stayed or went. "Don't want to be here then?" he asked, after the other man managed to gasp out a compliment and Aberforth made a note to tone down his next drink. Firewhiskey might have been too much too soon. Reaching for a different bottle, he poured him another two fingers and pushed it forward. Aberforth knew all about living with the worst shit humanly possible, not that he was about to tell him that. He never spoke about it. It was just his way, but he could certainly understand it without unloading his own baggage.