"Recently we do," Tommy answered, groaning. "And never somewhere nice. Why can't they bring up to some nice, carpeted, maybe with couches?" he asked, Oliver, because they had been beaten up, so that was good. They weren't walking, which was better.
Troy chuckled. "I always knew this power was awesome," he said as he passed the bottles, but never lost focus of the syringes. Callen might not kill Sean, but he would kill him.
Tommy picked up the bottle. He had no idea how it was floating, but then restaurants were disappearing, buildings were gone and their city had changed name. He'd figure it out eventually. Instead, he opened it and drank it, ignoring whatever looks he was getting from Oliver. Instead he made a face at the taste. "You wouldn't happen to have some red wine, or some sparkling San Pellegrino. I'll take a Perrier with lemon."
He looked up at Sean. "You're talking too much and I have no idea what you're saying." He turned to Oliver. "Do you know what he's saying?" Oliver probably was listening from the intense look on his face, which meant he probably knew what the guy was saying. Tommy on the other hand had stopped listening at the rabbit hole part. "However if you do have anything, at this point, I don't even care what, I'll take it."