The guitar hits the ground and Nate winces. He knows how much it means to Beth and he hopes it hasn't broken, but she doesn't seem to pay it any mind. The door shuts behind her and she's in his apartment before he really has time to properly invite her in.

"I'm okay," he protests, knowing that it won't do any good. But he is okay; Lila has mended the broken bones, and maybe he looks like shit but he's healed from worse. She doesn't sound like she's going to take no for an answer however, so he sits obediently at the table and points towards the kitchen. "There's painkillers." He doesn't have anti-inflammatories, hadn't think he'd need them in Darrow. Truth be told it's not the kind of thing he'd carried back home, either.

He's got his hand halfway to the whiskey bottle when her back is turned, but then she spots it and chastises him. He still picks it up, shaking his head at her. "I don't have a concussion." Nate's had a concussion, he knows what that feels like. He got punched, he didn't whack his head on the pavement, and he'd managed to walk all the way home. He uncaps the bottle and takes a swig, wincing a little.