you want me to walk her like she's your dog?

He ignores her first comment with a huff from his nostrils. Does it hurt his ego a tad? Sure, but will he let it bother him? No. He had nothing to prove to this slave. Even if he didn't out rightly believe in the whole slave business thing, it still meant he was technically a step above her (he's more humble than this, I swear). But as he walks away, her bland comment about having time does bring out a chuckle in him. Pausing for a second to look at her over his shoulder, a smirk lingering on his charcoal lips.

"Good! Then surely ya won' get bored," he comments back before moving forward to reach the storage cabinet full of names of things he didn't comprehend. Beginning to rifle through what was there, trying to look for something familiar, he alerts her with to the alcohol question with a gruff rumble that sounded more like he was clearing his throat. "Don' think alcohol gonna be right good fer ya anyway," Wilder mentions as he finally comes across a bottle labeled 'Eucalyptus' and faintly remembers Oleander having given him some to rub on his own scars.

Grabbing the bottle, he takes it back over to Vesper and places it on the cot beside her. "Do ya need my help or can ya do it by yerself?" Wilder questions with a slight raise of his brow and a tilt of his head. He has a feeling what she's about to say, but he finds amusement in trying to also figure it out.

WILDER