It hurts her head in a comforting way, like being cheerfully buzzed around a fire and listening to stories, with the bite of the liquor strong on her tongue and in her throat. She listens, and notes the names down, how he speaks of them. He cares about them, enough to hold them in his mind's eye as if they were right there, even under these conditions.

"You miss them greatly, don't you."

As if anyone wouldn't.

"They sound like quite the group to have around."