A few hours later, Luther and Joanie found themselves on the couch. Beer bottles were left empty on the floor as they went through. The amount he’d had on his own was fuzzy – if there was five before the failed change and another after before Joanie gave him water, did that leave him at five or six before he and Joanie began drinking again? Looking sideways at her, he guessed she was as drunk as he was, meaning she must have caught up while he didn’t notice.
He’d kicked off his shoes, seated sideways on the couch, legs pushed against the back. Eyes shut as he downed bottle God-knew-how-many, he dumped it with the other, before looking to Joanie. “You know, this is kinda funny. That we all, you know, didn’t change. If it was everyone.” He rubbed the side of his head, adding. “The new people are going to think we’re batshit.”