Milo couldn't remember the last time he's cooked. Aries probably did an infinitely better job then he could have cooking instant noodles and he'd drop them on the ground. Milo slumped in his chair, at a loss of what to do. He'd come down here for no reason in particular but now he couldn't stand the thought of eating. He'd give it an hour or so. Maybe then he'd stop feeling so queasy but now he knew he couldn't concentrate on work and he couldn't stand the thought of sleeping.<br/><br/>"No I...I think I'm gonna go to a gas station. You want anything while I'm out?"<br/><br/>Milo's resolve finally snapped and he was slipping on his shoes by the door and grabbing his car keys. It'd been years but damn it if Milo needed a drive and a smoke to clear his head form this mental torture he'd been enduring. It was better than drinking a shit ton, wasn't it? Because that was going to be his next step and the last he wanted to do was start spiraling. He stopped at the threshold of the living room, Looking Aries up and down. The question of blood lingered on his lips but instead of speaking he set them in a tight line.