And he'll keep saying it, so long as his crooked old heart continues to beat~. Sander rises from his seat, his own chair creaking in protest. "Useless things," he lightheartedly mutters. "Best carpentry my ass." The old bird swoops over to the piano and plucks up the previously forgotten absinthe bottle. He turns back and shakes the bottle, the liquid sloshing around inside.
"Would you like anything? I don't have much stocked up; just enough for a few cups of joe, water, and a bit of absinthe. Unless my refrigerator stocked itself while I was away...ooorrr..." -Sander contemplates for a moment before speaking softly- "I could show you around the place..."