He follows her into the kitchen - if nothing else, he is learning to navigate their house well enough, even if this past week he nearly fucking pissed in the linen closet with how dazed he was.

"I did, though we'll have to check and see if any of it's verifiable," he says, finding the kitchen counter with his hand before his hip, and leaning heavily on it. "He said he has a medical license, we can certainly get someone to help us find a copy of it if that's true."