Myron wiped his face on his shoulder--a lot of his clothes were dark because the rest had ended up with blood stains on them--and then nodded at Lorelai's request. He got her the potion and and the juice, passing it to her and then nestling next to her on the couch like a happy feline. His body was cool where he leaned against her legs and looked at her. The question about Merry made Myron tilt his head at her and think for a moment about how to answer.
"I don't worry much, but when I do, I do it myself," Myron answered quietly with a lazy shrug of one shoulder, trying to hang onto the calm feeling of satiation that was fading the more he thought about his missing friend. "Relationships are all very different, though. No point comparing. But yeah, Merry and me are close. Have you ever met him?"
Myron hesitated for a moment, and thought about how different drinking from Merry was from drinking from Lorelai. There were some ways it was the same too, of course, but Merry was something special. Myron didn't have a romantic attachment to Merry, exactly, but he was certainly protective of his friend.
"If he's been hurt, or killed, I'm going to rip whoever did it into pieces," Myron said conversationally, his voice almost lofty, his eyes going unfocused. He just didn't know how to find him, and it made Myron feel antsy. Angry. Powerless. His eyes darkened and he looked away from Lorelai. Suddenly, he was hungry again. He could have more blood, sure, but a distraction would also be welcome. Myron cracked his neck listlessly.