The day was shot to total shit. Scratch that. The week was screwed to high heaven. Hell, the month was completely fucked. Blaise's hands were shaking as he pounded back yet another double bourbon (because Ogden's simply was not going to cut it after this day). He didn't know who Pappy Van Winkle was but he made a helluva drink, and Blaise was steadily making his way through what he was sure amounted to a priceless bottle. It was Theo's, after all.