[ Rolling over is an improvement. A small one. He mixes carefully, something potent and thick. Something bitter, though he knows Cacao won't mind that. Then into a small cup it goes, and he brings it over to the bed. Sits on it to scoot himself up into Cacao's side, taking his hand to put the small cup into it. ]

Drink, and you will sleep. Dreams will not chase you, your grief with not follow. For a time. It is all I can offer you.