George rubbed his forehead with his free hand, running through what she'd said a few more times internally. The whiskey was doing a number on him already and she wasn't making much sense. Or was it that she was making too much sense?
"I've tried to go back to normal," he said quietly, "but I know he'd want me to go on, because I'd want him to go on." That was the easy part, George knew, that if their places were reversed, that Fred would feel the same he felt, and that George himself would want his twin to live his life as best he could for the both of them.
He rubbed his eyes and set his hand back on the table. "Fine. How do I do that, then?"