Zeke doesn't even know how to put into words the things roiling in his head. There's his deeply ingrained fear of being perceived, his history of fleeing at the first signs of comfort and attraction, there's... all the alcohol. So he tries to push it down, to squash it under his boots.

"Taby bit me," he laughs, though it's a little more dry and dark than mirthful. "NOT in a sexy way."