"Who told you you could have another drink? The last thing you need's more of that poison." As if he hadn't had a drink or four himself, already. It's not only me who's been drinking, after all. And the old bastard just keeps talking, giving us a realm old-fashioned lecture. He'd be better off saving his breath. "Just what do you think you're doing down here? I wish to God you boys would go to bed, and let me get a decent night's sleep. Lord knows I could use it." Christ.
Papa'd better knock it off, or I just might give him what he's got coming. I really ought to. All right, all right, maybe I will. Always assuming I can keep myself standing long enough to do anything... The world's getting a little unsteady, if you know what I mean.
She's walking around upstairs. There's no use fooling ourselves; no one's going to sleep tonight.
If Papa knows anything, he'll go and grab another bottle. We're nearly out.