"You've got manners, son. You don't gotta bother, just call me Bobby. I know the place is a shithole, but now that some idjit's put all that money into making it accessible for me, I guess I'm stuck." He had moved into the kitchen and then came back with a bottle of water, shrugging as he handed it to Harry. "Here. That's the water a friend of mine likes to drink when he's not just drinking straight up whiskey. It's imported or some shit."

Who imported water? Dumb thing to do.

"I'm taking it all upstairs," Sam called out before bounding up the stairs. Bobby looked up, raising his eyebrows.

"That boy moves like he's still a kid instead of some giant baby." His steps could certainly be heard throughout the house.