Utterly Mad

Eli lets out a hoarse cough as he throws down his seventh...wait, no, eighth....hang on, forty-second shot of whiskey of the night. Enough for a light little buzz, for him. Snickering under his breath at a joke only he gets, he uses one hand to swipe the empty liquor bottles and shot glasses right off the counter, shattering them on the floor, as he uses his other hand to push up off the barstool and onto the rickety floor. "Whelp, that's me out, lads. This should pay my tab." Eli stutters, pulling a smudged pill bottle from one pocket in his coat and tossing it at the tender.

Wandering out into the town square, Eli takes notice of a strangely....familiar RV. Spurred on by his rising blood alcohol level and the baker's dozen bumps of coke he'd done in the back,  he stumbles on over towards the old vehicle, hiccuping under his breath.