Well, don't make it look like utter torture to swing by his apartment or anything. Even if Lukas was consumed with a strange kind of dread at the idea of Mo clawing her way inside his sanctuaried hovel, he had sense enough to be blistered by a scald of offense when she hobbled up with defeat. Like she was taking on the last ring of fire, the final layer of Hell.
Clank and boom and steam went her hydraulic parts when she jiggled that sake. While it wasn't a usual drink of choice, Lukas recognized it well enough. Like any proud binge drinker should. He analyzed the wooden beast in her arms briefly, then dropped a duo fingers to point floor-side with a hopeful gesture.
Your place? Mouthed the question, the tumbleweed toss of his eyebrows drawing into something skeptical. She probably wasn't going to understand that walking all the way back down to her 1st floor apartment was really the best option. I mean, what is there was a fire or something? You really need to be on the ground level for safety, and piece of mind, and shit.