You'll get it eventually. [ It's a gentle word of encouragement, complete with a half-crooked smile as he accepts the bottle and takes another swig. He's dangerously close to just leaning back and letting sleep take him--it's the feather beds here, nothing like the ones at Brakebills. There's also the entity that is Eliot Waugh slowly encompassing his personal space again that he really rather missed. ]

Champagne first. Then car. Then--hell, you can probably invent an airplane here if you're not worried about birds getting upset.