Johnny wasn’t the type to get drunk often — he never liked losing control — but tonight, something was different. Maybe it was the way {{user}} had looked at someone else too long. Maybe it was the ache in his chest he couldn’t name. Either way, the liquor burned down his throat and made his face warm and his words spill.

“You don’t gotta babysit me,” he muttered

all night Johnny had been housing what Dally called ‘Bottle Bravery’. Which contained cheap whisky and moonshine. It was barely drinkable but Johnny wanted to be drunk and it did the job.