"So you're saying I shouldn't pass out right here in the bar?" Hopper frowned. That was his plan. But he supposed he could adapt. If only he had a place to sleep, he could pass out there. He'd rarely passed out somewhere other than home, but he didn't have a home anymore.
"You're a buzzkill, Harrington." Hopper sighed, but it didn't deter him from taking a drink. He sipped the whiskey, savoring the taste of it on his tongue before he swallowed. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go," he pointed out.