[Steven fills his shot glass, downs it--then hurls it against the wall. It shatters.]

Fuck, [he says.] I'm going to have to clean that up now. Or make one of the Handsome Cats do it. Just-- Fuck. It makes. God. It makes too much sense. God, fuck, this is all my fault. If I hadn't been taken... if I hadn't abused my press pass to go where I wasn't supposed to be...

Fuck. Fuck.

[And then the last bit of what she'd said registers and somehow, despite the persim weed and the vodka, he still makes the connection and so he turns to her and says,]

Canada, huh? Shit, Melissa, I'm so sorry.