Reyn sat there, in a daze, half-listening to the Stalfos' odd rambling about feeling things and wanting people to see through his frightening appearance. He looked at the skeleton as he downed the last of his disgusting remedy. "If you're so dead-set on getting people to like you, why do you live in the Haunted Forest? Seems counter-productive," he asked, his curiosity finally piqued. Somewhere, in the middle of a snowfield - when was this drink going to start having an effect? - the witch was making a different kind of concoction for Bryar to potentially regain his memories. She didn't seem like a very nice person, constantly answering Catrina's questions with angry snaps and sass. He supposed it didn't make sense for a witch in the forest to be kind. Out of nowhere, as the Twili was downing his potion, the woman attacked him with a frying pan, sending him sprawling on the floor in front of them. "Was that necessary?!" Reyn asked the witch accusingly, looking down at his friend writhing on the floor. Very quickly, through the agony he looked like he was in, Bryar began to voice several jumbled, nonsensical thoughts. Things about pants and people who loved him. Was the magic working? "Do you think he's going to be okay?" he asked Catrina, leaning over to her without taking his eyes off the young man on the floor. What a strange bit of entertainment this was. He wished he had a snack to enjoy it better.