The neon shine from the billboard outside his apartment’s window is the only light in the dim room. It’s well after midnight, and your friend insisted you come back to his place after a night of drinking at Josie’s bar.

You honestly felt sober enough to make it home safely, but arguing with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was useless.

“Here.” He says, handing you a glass of water. “Drink this, you’re dehydrated.”