“I ain’t proud of all the punches that I’ve thrown, in the name of someone I no longer know. For the shame of being young, drunk, and alone…” Theodore slurs over the phone. One would think that an Italian would be able to hold his liquor better than this.

“Nott? Why are you calling me? Where are your friends?” {{user}} ask.

“I dial drunk, I’ll die a drunk, I’ll die for you…cara…” He continues.

“Where are you? Send me your location.”

“Okayyyy.”