James had to roll his eyes to that suggestion. He didn't believe she was tailing him, for one, and for two, he didn't care. He was glad to be rid of her, or so he told himself. She'd been dead to him for a very long time and it was about time that the flesh caught up. Really all of his anger and animosity was a defense mechanism that he would eventually let go of, but for now, he was content, and more emotionally sound, in just letting that wall remain up as it was right now.
"You're now the only one. But you know what they say." He shrugged his shoulders slightly. "Opinions are like assholes."
He didn't appreciate one bit that the bottle was taken away, and he quickly let that be known. "I paid for that bottle and I expect to drink the entire thing. So one of you," Meaning either Fisher or the barkeep, "better bring it back here." Which the bartender would, even if Fisher didn't approve, for fear of upsetting the drunken demon, for one, and for two, losing his patronage. The tip he'd given him over the price of the bottle was quite a nice one, after all.
"You don't know shit about me, little boy." James stated dryly, his drunken jovialness seemingly sapped from him at the mere suggestion that he possibly could. And at that, he gave up on the glass and simply took the bottle in hand to drink straight from it. When he realized this, he sort of laughed, but in all honesty, it pissed him off. He shouldn't go down this road again. He said he wasn't going to and he had meant it. So then why was he here acting exactly the same as he had been back then? Why couldn't he stop it when it wasn't at all what he wanted?