"Bed," he said, firmly, "and naked." He was too old for the sofa, by every measure impossible. Ring or no ring, he was middle aged and treated his body like shit. In decent shape, but claiming he wouldn't end up with a back ache was stretching it.

It also made it sound like he was a lot more confident than he was. He took Elijah's hand and headed toward the bedroom, confidently. He snagged the bottle of bourbon on the way. He didn't bring the glasses.