"Life is shit," Fisher agreed, tossing back his drink with another grimmace. "No," he corrected, "life is like stepping in shit. You try to get it off, you enlist friends to help, but really? All you're doing is getting shit all over everything you like and everyone who cares about you." He polished off his shot, then slid the glass over for a refill. "And everyone does it to you too. I pulled a lot of people through a lot of shit. But I think about it, and my parents pulled me through all their shit too. The only decent one is my little brother. And he's gotta be twenty or so by now, so he's probably an asshole too."
He sipped his brew, contemplating. "What brought you here?" he asked, hoping that if he started a conversation them James might drink less, or maybe just drink less often. Give him more time to sober up between shots. "Your mom said you came after a fire, so I'm guessing that's why. If, in fact, you work with fire. You might be a vampire, I dunno." He took another sip. "But your face isn't all burned up, so I'm guessing no near death experience. You're pretty handsome, actually." This last part was said into his tumbler and he drank.
"So," he said casually, "what's the story behind James? You seem like the type who likes to talk about himself. So indulge me."