Eddy was magnanimous enough not to laugh at the poor boy or do something patronizing like smack his back and tell him 'now that will put hair on your chest' like Eddy's uncle had when he was given his first hard drink. Eddy had handled it a lot worse, ending up puking his guts out after the second glass. Then again, he had only been twelve. Uncle George was an asshole.<br/><br/>Still, Eddy couldnt hide his slight smirk completely as he waited for the other to recover. He refilled the glasses as the coughing died away, first the kid's and then his own. Eddy idly sipped his drink this time, going down far easier after the initial burn.<br/><br/>The glass looked undersized in his massive hand. More than thirty years of rough use had left his fingers thick as sausages, the knuckles gnarled worse than tree knots and so stiff that they curled like mitts when he relaxed. It hurt to flex them. Nearly all of his dexterity had been whittled away so that even gripping a pencil was almost impossible. But they were still perfectly capable of holding a bottle which was all Eddy needed lately.<br/><br/>"Same," Eddy answered, letting the warm scratchiness remain in his throat, "you're the first person I've seen tonight and I'd like the company."<br/><br/>It surprised him to find that he meant it. Eddy loathed drinking alone but his requirements hardly needed more than a warm body in the same room, completely content to ignore each other while they got sauced in indifferent silence. Anything more than the occasional grunt tended to irritate Eddy. That he actually craved some conversation was unusual, rare as a blue moon.<br/><br/>Eddy didnt really think himself as lonely but he found himself gladly welcoming the kid. The fact that he was also very easy on the eyes probably helped, a happy change from his usual sour-faced clientele. He was the prettiest damn thing in the room and Eddy was not above looking.