I fed. [Although from his tone it's clear he doesn't remember when. It leads him to try to remember how much he's had to drink, but he lost count around the third bottle of whiskey. Good thing he's already dead or he'd have just killed himself with alcohol poisoning.
He rolls them over so she's on top of him, and he absently strokes her hair.]
He's glad you let me stay here I think. And tomorrow, I'll stay with him....
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He rolls them over so she's on top of him, and he absently strokes her hair.]
He's glad you let me stay here I think. And tomorrow, I'll stay with him....