"Lies, said the pile of blankets," Zach said arching an eyebrow, as he was pretty sure he could identify Roger's eyes through the mass of blankets. Zach had been eyeing the cats carefully. Sometimes Zach just didn't do well with animals, but he tended to get along better with cats the most, so he didn't mind when Kori came to sniff him.
He then reached into his coat pocket, producing the bottle of fire-whiskey he'd brought along. Half gone, but oh well. Roger would only need a shot to take the pepper-up. Zach got up from the couch so he could go get a glass from the kitchen. "Just take your medicine boy. You'll feel better, promise," Zach said, emptying the vial and a shot of whiskey into the glass, before bringing it back to Roger in the living room. "So poke your head out, drink it down, and then you can have your soup."