"Already doing the drinking and fucking." He's not a euphemism kind of a guy. He's a straight-talking guy. "It's not enough, but it's better than pretending there's anything more. There's people in here learning languages and cookery and skills and all kinds of crap and what for? What's the point, when there's going to be nothing but this, ever?"
Belatedly, he spots the nudging of the vodka away from him and lunges clumsily after it. He watches the bottle tip as if in slow motion and grabs at it, and manages to rescue it before more than a few drops are spilled. There's only half a shot left in the bottle, actually, but he pours it into his glass anyway.
"You really still think anyone's ever going to find us down here? Wherever the hell we are?"