For the best that Bela took the glass from him, for he certainly didn't trust himself with it anymore than she did. He wiped his forearm across his mouth, holding it there to ward away more coughing... or, maybe, just to make sure the water didn't come back up the same way it'd gone down.

At the sound of his name again, Adam looked at the woman almost furtively, darkness creeping into the edges of his expression. With everything he and his name were attached to...

"No one stopped me," he offered, as if that minimal freedom explained everything.

Having the latitude to move around a house full of fancy architecture and glimmering decor was far different than what one found in the Cage. He couldn't chase the sight out of his mind's eye; it constantly hovered there, a beacon made of flame and affliction, drawing him in like a lighthouse guiding him home.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I don't know. I don't know how I got here."