The atmosphere between us awkward. I don't know how to describe this at all. But this very killing me.
"Erm. When did the last you have a drink?" I ask promptly.
Finally, but I've got to say something.
He sips his water and then slumps back on the couch, his abdominals looking sharper from his slight weight loss.
"Don't know. What day is it today?" He snaps.
"Saturday."
"What? Saturday?" he asks, obviously shocked.
"Fuck!" He cursed.
Assuming this means he's lost a lot of time, but he can't have been in this penthouse for five days straight, just by drinking alone.
Surely he would be dead if we didn't find quickly.
