[Liem doesn't see what about anything he's said should earn the kind of raucous amusement it does from Gen. He frowns at him, perplexed and a little annoyed, feeling like he might be the butt of a joke he hasn't been let in on. But if that's the case, Gen isn't sharing. The young man seems more interested in getting himself yet another drink than in explaining why the idea of himself having a future is so outrageously funny.

Liem still doesn't think it's funny at all.

But in his own way, Gen has been… not understanding, exactly. Not nice. But invested, at least. In the most obnoxious and tactless way possible, Liem feels like he is trying to take him at least somewhat seriously — to provide an ear and a bit of company for him while Liem tries to drink himself senseless.

He doesn't know quite how to feel about that, when it shouldn't be Gen's role to care for him at all. But it's far too late for him to pretend to have it together.]

I've had a lot of practice acting well-adjusted.

[He swirls the liquor in his glass around between sips, as though jostling it will make it taste any better. It doesn't, of course; nothing that comes in a glass could satisfy him as much as the thing that patrons of this particular bar crave most.]

Not that anyone here cares — you're right. The new world is meant to welcome everyone, after all.

[He drains the rest of his glass; tries not to think too much about the way the room has started to sway around him.]

So why shouldn't I be here, Gen?