Christmas. It had been September that morning. "When you put it that way, I think I might be relieving you of a bottle of whatever you're willing to part with." He'd follow in the footsteps of the others and reserve all complaint about the place, aside from a few questions on the collective sanity of its residents. It was better than he'd had before. "As long as there's a mattress, I won't be saying a word."
There were more than a few people here. The explanation he'd been given had said that the broken seal was what was bringing them there, but not why it chose who it did. Beyond his initial skepticism, he wondered if this was part of that calling he shared with his brother, on a new level.
"As long as it isn't likely to kill me, it'll do," he answered.