Seth's smile is as cheerful as a funeral, jagged and refracting like shattered smoked glass. Even obscured by the novelty of alcohol Seth can pick up and effortlessly catalog where Anna's glances brush, nothing them down just in case he could need them later for anything at all. He opens the orange juice with one hand, even though it'd be easier to twist it with his teeth, and then looks up at a cupboard,
"I don't want it. I wouldn't have cut if off if I did. I'm not an idiot." Seth gestures his less maimed hand at the cupboard he just looked at, focusing on Anna again with a kind of exaggerated weight. "I need a glass for this. Help yourself if you want one."
For now or to keep he doesn't specify, and really doesn't care. If this odd little stranger wants to make off with the glasses of the household Seth would be far more bemused than irritated. He brushes over her mind again, just in case, and leaves the feelings of satisfaction where he finds him. It would be nice to say he does that to respect her privacy, and it's for the best to pretend that's what it is--not disaffection, for example, or exhaustion.
"There must be some man named Anna." He watched the newcomer move through the apartment, something fluttering at the back of her mind that was odd but not necessarily requiring him to muster up the kind of focus that seemed bogglingly difficult at the moment. "In some place. Why are you here?"