You're drunk. Drunk around the base. You know you shouldn't have drank that much, but damn it, you needed it.

You walk into the kitchen, pouring one more glass of whiskey. Just one more.

And another then.

"What are you doing?" A low voice asks from behind. You turn around and faces him. You're too drunk to care. You lift your cup.

"Want one?" You ask. He scoffs, and grabs your glass, sipping it.

"Why are you drinking?" He asks, eyes serious.