Cesar hesitates, irrationally worried that L might yank the drawer open and seize the book again. Then he steps back, bringing the chair by the smoke detector with him to sit just out of the way. He's still close, right?

Urgh. Cesar rubs his face with one hand, pointing to the other counter when L asks. There's a few bottles out by a knife-board, including rum, tequila, and wine. The first two are slightly apart from the rest, and Cesar's expression is twisted with a clear grimace. He rests one elbow on one knee, putting his face in that hand.