“Chase opened the mini fridge. “Wanna drink?” He asked.“No thank you and you shouldn’t either.”“Oh I definitely need one, besides it numbs the hunger.” He grabbed a few of the tiny bottles from the door shelf.“Then by all means get your drink on.” Samuel chuckled.”

“I followed him through the halls of the enormous church until we got to the staff's kitchen. He went to the fridge, opened it, and came out with a bottle of bourbon. He poured some into a coffee cup, drank it down, and poured some more. He offered me the bottle.No, thanks. Aren't you supposed to drink vodka?Aren't you supposed to wear a pointy hat and ride on a flying broomstick?Touche, I said.”

“What’d you need?""Desuetude.""Reading again, are we? Could be dangerous. It means to become unaccustomed to. As in something gets discontinued, falls into disuse.""Thanks, man.""That it?""Yeah, but we should grab a drink sometime.”

“The doctor lifted the bottle. “Thank you,” said Felix. “I never drink spirits.”“You will,” said the doctor.”

“One last chance. That’s all I’m asking.” He had lost count of the number of last chances he had wasted. “Just one more. God!” He had never believed in God for an instant. “Fates!” He had never believed in Fates either. “Anyone!” He had never believed in anything much beyond the next drink. “Just one… more… chance.”“Alright. One more.”Cosca blinked. “God? Is that… you?”Someone chuckled. A woman’s voice, and a sharp, mocking, most ungodlike sort of a chuckle. “You can kneel if you like, Cosca.”

“I'm going to open another vottle. not a vottle, but a bottle. you open it and I'll drink it. and you try to write as much as I did without falling off of your chair.”