How did the mothman drink? He didn’t really have lips in the traditional sense, as far as Henry could tell, it was all kind of hidden under the fur. All he had seen were some slightly gargoylesque teeth poking out when he opened his mouth to make those clicking noises for Henry. Maybe it was worth bringing a bowl for him if he couldn’t drink like a human. Henry really wished his ankle wasn’t killing him; carrying things was really hard on one leg. In the end, all he could do was clutch a water bottle and a bowl to his chest with one arm, and hobble back to the kitchen door, trying not to let the stack of toasted bread slip off the plate he held in his other hand.
When the door closed, the daylight shut out of the living room again, he was greeted by some distressed clicks and a hum that s
