You want me to calm down? Give me whiskey, not water.

[ The anger is replaced with cocky arrogance, a self-assured drawl that aims to prod at that teacher-like quality of hers, to rattle her, to break that perfect, calm facade. ]

Tell me, what exactly about this isn't horrible? Wait, don't, I don't fucking care. [ He pauses, eyes flashing as he looks away, at the crowd, the boat. Mutters, under his breath, ] At least you can wake up from nightmares.