[It's been a week. He's slept. He's gone to work. He's drunk his weight and volume in liquor multiple times over. So of course he's drunk (still drunk?) before going out to work tonight.]

This doesn't get easier, does it? Living without you? I never asked much, 'cause... well, I didn't want to know. You've got it worse, out there with Lucifer, but it's still...

[Silence. The click of a lighter and a slow exhale.]

I can't believe I did this to you in the 80s. I can't believe you took me back after it. Glad you did, but this is bad. Worse than I thought possible.

[An audible swallow and a pass of his hand through his hair as he cries.]

Fuck.