With a grunt, Deprave withdrew his hand again. She didn't have to be a bitch about it. More to the point [i]he[/i] didn't have to be a bitch about it, if he wanted he could just snatch it from her hands... and lose the opportunity to screw her in the process. Apparently, he ranked sex over booze in his hierarchy of needs, and that was as it should be, perhaps. Speaking of booze, Grog had just stumbled into their vicinity like a drunken tornado... a [i]really[/i] drunken tornado, half-tripping over Old N as the crab-monster moved around as well. Deprave could smell the alcohol on him, which was odd because he always smelled of alcohol. The extra alcohol, he supposed. And, well, it showed in his speech too, when the only legible thing he uttered was "tripped balls through time" or something.

'That is amazing, Grog,' Deprave said dryly to the super-alcoholic, not really amazed at the obvious lie at all. 'Really impressed at how much of the RV you're fucking up. Since you're so drunk, I think it's fair to say you won't need the Power-Pint for at least five minutes, do you mind if I take a few chugs from it?' He'd be ready to take the pint out of Betty's hands the moment he confirmed that he was allowed to have it. Again, he felt stupid abiding by on-the-spot rules, but again, sex beat out booze, whilst having both would be an excellent start to whatever he did next.