"Long as you ain't putting my ass on a treadmill and makin' me breathe into a tube," Lafayette says as he steps into the room, hands in the pockets of his parka. It's still too chilly and windy for him to favor a lighter coat. Like half of Darrow already had. He'd even seen a few women wearing flip-flops. Fucking crazy people.

"Magic potion," he murmurs at the sight of the cauldrons. Jesus. If he felt out of his depth in Marnie's little cult circle, he definitely felt it now. He'd have never envisioned himself standing right here, right now ... about to do this. Then again, he'd never envisioned himself chained up in Eric Northman's fucking torture dungeon, so whatever, life.

"I can follow spells. In books. That all I really know. How we gonna do this?"