"Usually I am," he countered. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind these days." Oh, to return to the halcyon days of undergrad, where he was twenty-one and invincible, pulling stupid stunts with his friends just because he could, blacking out and waking up with a half-eaten Hot Pocket in his hand and glitter in his hair.

But those days had ended, and would never come again. There was Miles pre-Mount Massive, and now there was Miles post-Mount Massive, and the door to his carefree past had slammed shut that night.

Fuck, I am depressing.

"Back atcha," he said, then grinned crookedly. "For a cop, you're actually a good drinking buddy. I don't usually have good experiences with cops and drunkenness."