Georgie was a tittering mess, the half empty bottle of tequila in his hand having an effect on him. His words were more slurred and his southern accent was much stronger. He was still as sweet as honey butter, however.

He leaned against one of the cement poles that held the bridge up. A screwed up expression on his face as he thought for a minute, "Is this all worth it?" his focus on the stars.

It was a little chilly, he was curled up in his windbreaker with his tequila to help warm him.