The Glory Of All Our Problems

As he was fully regaining his senses from the groggy awakening he was still taking in what Artorias was saying to him. And as his words went on, he couldn't help but feel offended. Typical from an alcoholic that didn't see, or maybe he did, the issue with his habits. Chimera speaking highly of him was not wrong on the late Alpha's part. Balthier had been a good and diligent worker and member of the pack. He did like the drink as much as he did back then, but everything spun out of control when he left Azzurra. And that's why it had become so prominent and such an issue in his everyday life now.

He wouldn't bend to the Alpha who was willing to help him given the circumstances.

His eyes had closed in the conversation on Artorias' part. Not necessarily an angry face but certainly not a happy one. It was so easy for Balthier to tell himself he was troubled. It was harder for someone else to tell him or for him to face it at all. In a deep breath combined with the still lingering fogginess of waking up he responded, "I don't know what you're talking about." In his tone was that hint of delusion, like he knew exactly what Artorias was pointing out. He did. The proof and the consistency was all there, he couldn't really hide from it. But still he refused to acknowledge that anyone but himself knew what he was doing to himself.

"Balthier"