Anthony took Elijah's drink for himself, turning his head slightly to actually look at what was going on. It resembled certain bad memories a bit too much, but even so, he didn't turn away. Genuinely, fuck all this. Anthony bounced his leg in anxiety as he looked at the fight just waiting to happen (not that he saw particularly well—shit was getting pretty blurry by now). He should've just gone home. He's of no use, here. Watching with a morbid curiosity, he considered whether or not he should say something. ...He'll wait a bit before deciding.