[ He lets out a soft, snorty-like laugh, feeling his face scrunch up in the cold. His mom used to say it'd get stuck like that. It's one of the few things he remembers, outside of the music, and it sticks to him now, like a warm, bittersweet blanket. ]

I'm not sorry either. About being stuck with you, I mean.

[ He knows he's not the most coherent, that he's barely making any sense at this point. He's drunk, and he's sad, and he's not sure if he'll ever feel any different. Right now it feels like this is it. ]

I'm glad you and Robbie are doing good. I'm glad you're around a lot.