"No," the Sheriff assures him, accepting the drink with a polite nod and raising of his glass. "I'm not on any sort of official business, I assure you."

He takes a sip of his drink, relishing in the taste of fire traveling down his throat and burying itself somewhere in his gut.

He hasn't felt much for as long as he can remember, but the effects of a good scotch remind him that he can feel. Somewhere. Even if only temporarily.

"Are you all right, Doctor?"