Screams can be faintly heard from outside the silent club, telling me that things have only gotten worse. I knock back another glass of amber alcohol as I try to drown out the sounds and guilt. Part of me was angry. I even found myself smirking at the thought of certain people being chased and killed but the humor didn't last long.
Especially when I think about all the innocent people this is effecting. Can I just drink all my problems away? As I knock another glass back, Ambrose frowns at me and says "You're drinking the oldest release in Dalmore's Constellation Collection, 1964. It's rich and complex with notes of peach, coffee, apples, and cinnamon. This was aged for 46 years, including a three-year finishing period in oloroso-sherry wood."