"Well, good luck with that," George said, catching the beer and popping it open. Talking War out of beating the wits out of a vengeful meth dealer was beyond George's abilities right now, and so he just took a long swig of his beer.
Drinking was a complicated thing ever since it became clear how deep in Alchohol's thrall Patrick was. It was something George usually did while nursing guilt and a not insignificant amount of resentment towards the New God. But today, he was blotting all of that out.
"Famine and my brother kissed," George said, crushing the beer can easily when it was drained. "Craziness."