Famine sighed. She hadn't meant for her retort to come out that sharp, but she wasn't perfect, and her patience wasn't limitless.
"Look, Patrick," she began. "I get that you're grieving. And I understand that people do that in different ways, and that when people are stressed, they fall back on old vices. Everyone around you wants to do the best they can to take care of you, and you're searching for your answers at the bottom of a bottle. You have three kids along who are depending on you, and I'm pretty sure you don't want them to see you drunk and shouting at poles. Or talking about flinging yourself off a cliff."
She cut into the pie, probably a little harder than necessary. "So let's eat and sober you up, so that when your brother inevitably calls me later, I'll have some positive news to give him."