"Wow," I said, brow arched as I pitched my own stick into the trash. "You've got good aim, for somebody high as shit."

I was actually surprised he was still awake, and didn't expect him to remember much of the conversation later.

"Maybe. If I don't have anything better to do," I said, reaching out and straightening the daisy clutched in the Get Well bear's hand. "I think you need to get outta here, first."

Leaning back in my chair, he laced my hands behind my head, giving him a once-over. For somebody nearly dead the day before, he looked— well, he looked like shit, but that was still an improvement.

"So," I said, "Who's Sansa?"