He'd used the credit card Bryn had loaned him to buy all kinds of things when the door to her world had been open. Yes, he'd bought books and albums, even a few movies he wanted to watch. There were movies of The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings! He'd liked the books, so he intended to watch those before he got sent back to his time. He'd ask and see if his dad or Abra wanted to watch with him. And he'd gotten a really nice leather jacket as well from a vintage shop so it was all broken in and comfortable. He'd argued with himself a lot over buying all of them, so used to having hardly any money at all, but Bryn had told him he could buy what he wanted, so he did.
Then there were the things he'd bought and told nobody about. There were maybe twenty, twenty-five bottles of whiskey? The good stuff, not the cheap shit he usually drank. There was about the same again of vodka and gin, and other random bottles. And there were kegs and crates of beer, and a few cartons of cigarettes. All of it was stashed in his dad's old apartment. His dad didn't drink, after all, and he didn't want to tempt Jack. It was bad enough that the man had to deal with Dan just showing up at all hours, utterly smashed and reeking of booze and cigarettes, and generally just being Dan Torrance, five-star fuck-up. It would have been beyond cruel of him to store it in the new apartment.
This all meant that Dan didn't have to drink in Bryn's. Not that he minded that. Bryn and Astrid were great, Thor was... big but very likeable, Hródolf was funny and seemed to know when he needed to be quiet around Dan, and Brenna was beautiful and very very easy to spend time with. But he knew what Bryn was up to with his drinks. He knew why, he knew it was because she thought she was doing him a favor, so he wasn't annoyed about it. And now it didn't bother him at all. He'd drink at Bryn's and then drink from his supply, and all was well.
Today, though, he'd gone straight from Abra's tour of the weird and wonderful Space Mall to the park, do not pass Go, do collect whiskey and beer and a couple of packs of cigarettes, and do pick a spot in the park by the river with a decent view of Space. He'd been getting kinda jittery towards the end of the tour, and then they'd walked past some sort of department store and his head had gone loopy. His jaw and shoulder had started aching so he just made his excuses and left.
Now he was self-medicating and singing quietly to himself while he waited on Mr Hemingway showing up. The whiskey and beer had worked its magic, and he was chain-smoking as he waited, propped up against a tree with a two-thirds-drunk bottle of whiskey beside him and a beer bottle ashtray. He grinned round his cigarette as Hem approached and gestured towards the river where the water was keeping his drinks nicely cool.
"Good to see you, too," he said, "and help yourself. I got beer, and I got whiskey."