Drea finally opened her eyes when she had to stop drinking and take a breath. "Fuck me, that's good," she said, an almost blissful look on her face. Even though it was the substance that had put her in a wheelchair, ended her career, and killed three innocent people, right now it was liquid manna from Heaven. "I'd forgotten how good it was," she added, realizing she was being stared at and going back to drinking slightly more ladylike. Slightly. She wasn't chugging it at least. Progress?