"Wh----ohhh, no, don't do that," said Arla, laughing nervously. "Don't do that, don't enable me. They tell me that I drink too much." Her muscles finally relaxed and she tugged her hand back, shoving it into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. "That's what they say. I drink too much. So... so don't encourage that, I mean----I'd love that. This stuff is shit, I'd love a nice scotch----but no, don't ... don't do that." She grinned a little and adjusted her glasses again. "And god, please, don't be sorry, right? I mean, like... it was a million years ago. And by a million years ago I mean a few months ago. But don't be sorry, you don't have anything to do with it... it's not the pity party today. I promised myself I was going to stop moping and feeling sorry for myself, so I can't have anyone feeling sorry for me."