“Ah,' the innkeeper said. 'So you were getting ready to drink then?''Tiny Gods, yes,' Bast said. 'To great excess. What the hell else is there to do?”

“He hesitated, then lifted his head and sniffed. “Have you been drinking?” The question was more curious than accusatory. “No,” Bast said. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. “I’ve been tasting,” Bast said, emphasizing the word. “Tasting comes before drinking.”

“I rode my horse to the saloon, but it was out of business. The cowboy I spoke with said the bartender served the saloon’s last drink on March 5th, 1882. Guess I shouldn’t have taken so long to shower and get ready. Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chronicler snapped. "You're just spouting nonsense now.""I'm spouting too much sense for you to understand," Bast said testily.”

“What's up?" I asked.You tell me," he said. "You were the one about ready to start making out with Adrian."It was an experiment," I said. "It was part of my therapy."What the hell kind of therapy are you in?”

“It's often said that life is strange, ah yes, but compared to what?”