( He laughs - muted and breathy, but with some modicum of sincerity. )

Seriously. Eighteen months into the end of the world and we still managed to find it on a supply run every once in a while.

( They pass through the wide double doors toward the memorial wall, where the moonshine supply has been temporarily relocated.

Thank god. It's not tequila, but he's not about to be even slightly picky. )