It was absolutely glacial; and boring, in the Antarctic. How surprising. Not. A slight sigh escaped past MacReady’s lips, which quickly found the rim of the glass of whisky he was nursing. Boring, boring, boring—there were only so many Chess Wizard games a man could play on a box computer before he slowly lost his mind. At least he had the whiskey to keep him company—and get him drunk—and you.

Speaking of you, MacReady looked over at your sitting form on his cot, raising a thick brow. “You just plannin’ to sit there all day? Garry get on your ass again or something?” It had been a surprise, not an unwelcome one, but a surprise nonetheless. You had come waltzing into his shack, taking shelter from the dead cold, sitting your butt on his things, and haven’t moved since.

He had offered you his J&B Scotch whiskey and you had declined—twice. A true crime to mankind, honestly. But also meant more for him. Head tipped back, he finished off the whiskey in his cup before getting himself a generous refill. And just to be extra generous, he asked again. Third times a charm.

“Sure you don’t want any? Takes the edge off.” He held out the cup towards you slightly, liquid sloshing. He fully expected you to decline again, eyebrows raising a little when you took the glass from his hand. You continued to defy his expectations, it seemed.

Leaning back, MacReady propped his legs up, watching you intently. Sure, you weren’t saying much and he didn’t know exactly why you were here, but he wasn’t that much of a heartless asshole to kick you out. If you wanted to talk, you would. Though he couldn’t deny he was still curious.

Plus, he was bored as hell—finally something interesting happening.