Riddle me this, princess: in what possible way am I not acting like a normal fucking human being who's dead and doesn't want to be?

[ Hm. Vodka and absinthe. Absinthe and vodka. Well... the point isn't to live, is it? It's to not wake back up. He tips the contents of the green bottle into the crystal vodka decanter, watching the liquid go from clear to pale green.

Another experimental sip. Vile, but survivable. More absinthe. Survivable is not the goal. ]

And while I'm at it, what's the fucking point of going outside? Stay in your room.