The asset shrinks back just a little, between the tone and the expression and the leaning closer-- and the subject matter. Not a lot, but a little, turtling up his shoulders like he can hide inside himself. "There are drugs," he allows haltingly. "But it was the Chair. There's. Pain. And nothing before it."

And he can't say more than that just yet. His throat closes up and he hugs his untouched coffee a little closer.