Not to mention the fact that we are who we are. Honestly? being transplanted with a mindflayer tadpole is a ... horrible situation to be in. I'm sure if we lived ten lifetimes, or even a hundred after this one, it'd still be the worst possible thing that has happened to us. But even then... I'm glad. Kind of. That it happened to us in particular.

[He falters then, his eyes narrowing, eyebrows furrowing, as he thinks of how exactly to articulate quite a delicate point well.]

I'm not glad that it happened to me, or you, or the others. Other than a few eccentricities [Namely a warlock, a vampire spawn, and a cursed wizard...] You seem decent enough people. ...Even Lae'zel, actually. Once you get used to being constantly insulted. And, I don't know. I like traveling with you. I'm glad for you. Could've been anyone waking up next to me on that beach. Hells. Could have been a band of bugbears.

[The half-elf rises- or at least partially rises- into a sitting position. The bottle is, again, supped from. Likely his last drink of it. Especially if he wanted to get back to the encampment without falling on the road back.]

So we have time, a quite likable strength in numbers, and a path to follow... however it ends. Hopefully, things are clearer now. But even then, if you're still at a loss, then we'll hit the mead like you wanted when we get back.