See, Carlisle? You're already well on your way to acceptance. Unfortunately, it isn't the self-loving sort of accepting that anyone sane would deem healthy, but hey. We can't all be winners.

And then he downs that glass like a champ. Though Rey didn't peg the cleric for the type who'd drink like a college boy at a fraternity mixer before, she's found herself learning new things more and more.

She snorts, at his query, before taking a long drink of her own, but doesn't kick it back the same way Carlisle just did.

"Who the hell here doesn't have shit to be miserable about?" Rey quips, shamelessly evasive.