"And you had nothing better to do with your time than cover the house with notes while I was sleeping? I think you're the one that needs the chat."

The gaze to the stars is followed, but the train of thought isn't shared. He probably just feels that way because he part eldritch abomination, or appears as one, or whatever it is the hallucinations mean. The silence is appreciated.

Then Liam ruins it with his dumb. Ugh, he doesn't want to talk about this- out comes the flask, "I ran my check off schedule this week. You're free to bite me if you need it, but at this rate you'll end up like Kate's cats. Fat and lazy and spending months on a cat tree expecting to be hand-served fresh tuna."