[Dan goes for it and gives Stacia a little wink before he kicks it back. He smiles at the memory of Stacia, coughing on how thick and harsh the whiskey is; even just the husk of it that Dan gets has enough of a kick to register with him. Stacia's right in that it doesn't get him drunk, but a single shot would hardly touch Dan anyway.

He's never met Bulletproof in his life, but he can see the parallels to his own life, the way he learned as a teenager how to kick back alcohol and suck down cigarettes with older monster hunters and the werewolves they both stalked and collaborated with. There's almost a resignation to it. A well, since you're stuck in this shitty situation, may as well develop a cheap coping method air from the elder statesman.]

Werewolves where I'm from don't tend to stay in touch after they split off to new packs or go into the woods either. I hope he's alright.