"A stick in the mud, mostly," he giggled, head dropping back against the back of the couch so he could stare at the ceiling. "Odd being drunk without, without the uh, the taste. Scotch!" He pulled himself up abruptly and stood, looking around. "Where does Harvey keep his alcoholic tendencies, Lisa?" Like she would know, "If you were him."

He glanced back at her, vaguely waving a hand. "There's no truth, not without you believing it."