"That sounds better than my night." It was hard to acknowledge that anything happened; he spit the words out like tiny, hard pebbles, then downed yet another shot of whiskey. He knew he was behaving badly in front of Deirdre, but the whole ordeal made him miserable, nervous, and scared. He hated being scared.
"I tried to--" He laughed, dry and hard and bitter, shaking his head, and he reached for the bottle of whiskey before stopping himself. For a moment, he stared at his hand, flexing it, then he dropped it, shrugging to himself. "My siblings live here, in the building. And my brother, he isn't=-" How to describe Nicky to a stranger? "--He's got some problems." Like a hook-handed brother chasing after him.