[If the way he continues to fret with the paper between his fingers is any indication, Carlisle isn't sure if Glacius knows what he's doing. The icy warrior did go heading off into a raging inferno, after all.]

I don't know. I... I suppose I'd prefer a distraction. This is normally where I would drink myself into a stupor, numbing myself to the torrent of suffocating, terrible worry that floods my mind.

[He bares his teeth as he speaks, placing a finger on the glyph on the sheet beneath the teapot. It lights up for only a moment, fading as the liquid in the pot begins to steam.]

But I'm not supposed to drink anymore, and I am left instead with my conscience and my fears. I... apologize for inviting you here under false pretenses.