[Gen’s answer earns a faint noise of disgust from Liem. No — of course a few rounds of drinks don’t make a dent on a big, strapping young man like him. He recalls the disdain that Gen had for the cold as well, treating a walk in the snow like it was just pleasantly brisk, while Liem wrapped himself up like a mummy.

Well, that’s nothing new. If only one of them ends up with a brutal hangover tomorrow, it’s better if it ends up being Liem regardless. Despite his morose mood, he still wouldn’t wish that kind of misery on Gen when he knows he has enough going on already.

There’s a silent moment after Gen asks his question, as Liem regards his choice of drink with a blank, impassive look. Despite his prim posture and the almost statuesque look of his pale, fractured face, his eyes manage to hold a wealth of exhaustion in their gaze.]

Why would I go somewhere nice just to get drunk? [he says eventually.

If he goes somewhere nice, somewhere people he knows might actually want to go, someone might see him, might want to talk to him. He didn’t come here to chat with neighbourhood acquaintances; he came here to pickle his brain until he either came to some kind of decision or just lost the ability to care about how much of a mess his life was.

But he still isn’t nearly drunk enough to have hit either threshold.]

Nice people don’t come to a place like this. Unless they want to be drunk from — but that’s still a bit deviant, isn’t it.

[Said with all the brittle condescension of someone who has more than once spent his Saturday night getting fucked up in a dive bar, and then had to haul his hungover carcass to church bright and early the next morning.]

What are you doing here, Gen? I hope you didn’t come here with the same purpose that I did.