[ The only retort to that one is a mildly disgusted noise. He's seen things crawl out of the holes of Mishka's face he'd rather not think about in detail, and he's in no rush to see it again anytime soon. Just because he's used to the elder man's general aura of plague doesn't mean he particularly enjoys it.

The house is...actually better, on the inside- there's no holes or loose floorboards, or any drafts, either. Not even a single crack in the glass panes of the windows. While a bit plain, it's already far better than most Ostoyan accommodations by virtue of being a perfectly sturdy roof over one's head. He leaves the lights off, since it's brightly lit enough just from the sun shining in, and doesn't even have to gesture since Mishka is right on his heels. ]

You're fortunate they've alternate forms of lighting here, so there's little need for lanterns or candles.

[ Not that he really understands it much, but since all he has to do is flick a switch, he won't bother digging deep into the schematics. Magic and science aren't his fortes, anyway. He has some candles tucked away in his cabinet as backup, regardless, but he won't mention that yet.

Mishka can drop into one of the kitchen chairs, sturdy and wooden, as Adelis shuffles to his cabinet with a grimace. He gets one cup, and then thinks about it before muttering under his breath and grabbing a second. He doesn't bother answering until he turns the tap on the sink, letting the water run to fill them. Look at that. Fucking running water. ]

I gave on bothering to figure out her motives. I presume she thrives on watching everyone flounder, given the things she wants us to do. [ One cup filled, and then he shoves the second under the stream. ] Be it from the basic to the debasing...or the salacious, although I've found not everyone has the fortune of being saddled with those.

[ He slams the cup in front of the other man perhaps a little aggressively, but it's not enough to spill it, at least. Drink up, plague-man. ]