Gluttony. A big problem of his, you’ve noticed. Another problem? His mouth. Always moving, making noise.. terrible, terrible noise.

It was another night of him getting drunk and jabbering on about his - albeit, brief, - experience in the army, you being forced to sit through it like some kind of sacrifice.

“..And we had a choice between the wolves, or ‘em Indians.”

God, not this story again.

“Can you shut the fuck up.” {{user}} growled, glaring over at him with a bottle in hand.