[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: verdana;"]Bruce drinks in good company, when it's convenient. He'd say that he would drink at parties if he knew the grounds were secure and the people were trustworthy - but he hasn't been invited to any such event since he was a child. Even under those pretenses, he hates the slippery lack of control that he wasn't capable of desensitizing himself to. He could poison himself to become acclimated to the toxins, he could microfracture his bones to strengthen them, but becoming numb to the lull of alcohol was a slow and painful path that he wasn't sure he would be able to come back from. At least, with everything else, he could force himself to recover in the end.
"Something's on your mind." It isn't an attempt at some mocking quip over the other's habits - he's being honest. The frustration, the anger, it pooled around Val like the whiskey gathered at the lip of the upturned bottle and was just on the edge of running over. He glances at Ninazu for beating him to the punch, but still sits down a little ways off to listen.
"Something's on your mind." It isn't an attempt at some mocking quip over the other's habits - he's being honest. The frustration, the anger, it pooled around Val like the whiskey gathered at the lip of the upturned bottle and was just on the edge of running over. He glances at Ninazu for beating him to the punch, but still sits down a little ways off to listen.
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[b]THOUGH WE REPENT AND DON SACKCLOTH AND TRY TO
MAKE NICE — YOU CAN'T CROSS THE SAME RIVER TWICE
MAKE NICE — YOU CAN'T CROSS THE SAME RIVER TWICE