She laughs, lazy and slow, which is much how her mind is. Some cold-blooded thing circling in dirty water, watching with too many eyes, laughing with too many teeth.

( Personally, I've been drunk since before that fuckin' elf died, but that's not the point. People are always looking for a good excuse not to feel what they fuckin' feel. They yap like the booze makes it easier to get the grief out, but they're still putting up a nice numbing coat before they do it because they don't want to have to remember what it really felt like in the morning. This group's got a lot of problems and they're quick to drink about them. )

The snickering hypocrite, the bitter relapsed alcoholic now so quick and so unkind in her assessments of the exact same behavior she's partaking in. It's like she hates herself, or something.