[continued from here]

"Doubt it thinks the same," Asher said, and it's still a little odd to consider a godforsaken spit of land capable of thought, but not doing so would likely just enrage it...

He watched as Stephen continued to sulk -- was that what he looked like when he did it? -- drowning his sorrows. He's been there long enough to know it didn't help. Nothing really did. It did dumb it down a bit, though, and that was enough incentive to do it. Unfortunately, he was tapped out.

Adjusting his cap, Asher presumed to crawl his way on top of Stephen, straddling him at the waist and helping himself to the man's drink, downing what was left and simply tossing the cup over his shoulder once he'd finished. "I don't have a mat either," he said, managing to sound completely casual despite the situation.