Athelstan frowns at him, eyeing the bottle. "Stop dwelling on things you can't change," he says gently. He stands and his hand drops to his shoulder and he squeezes. There's no other words he really has to offer and he doesn't say anything else before he grabs a jacket he's acquired from near the entrance.

"Good night," he's planning to spend at least a few hours out with his art and books, either trying to pray or drawing or both. It'd been clear that Ragnar hadn't wanted to join him in bed and he didn't want to deal with that fact just now.