Stole a bottle of something dark and bitter from the Guests' deck. Tastes like tar and regret. Makes my head swim in a way I usually only get from a good, hard fuck. Different kind of warmth, though. Settles in your gut instead of your cunt. Remembered a time, before this rusting cage, when the cold got so deep in your bones that a sip of anything that burned was a goddamn miracle. Now I'm chasing that same feeling with sweat and teeth and cock. Funny how the hole you're trying to fill never really changes shape. Just the things you shove into it. Pass the bottle.