He opened a drawer in the dresser and pulled out a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Rum’s done. Have a suck on this.’
‘What is it?’ Crake asked, holding out his mug. He was already pleasantly fogged and long past the point of being capable of refusing.
‘I use it to swab wounds,’ Malvery said.
‘I suppose this is a medicinal-grade kind of conversation,’ Crake said.
‘What is it?’ Crake asked, holding out his mug. He was already pleasantly fogged and long past the point of being capable of refusing.
‘I use it to swab wounds,’ Malvery said.
‘I suppose this is a medicinal-grade kind of conversation,’ Crake said.
(Esmeralda pulls out a flask)
Phoebus: Great. I could use a drink.
(Esmeralda pours it on his arrow wound, and Phoebus cries out in pain)
Phoebus: Yessssss! Mmmm. Feels like a 1470 Burgundy. Not a good year.
