A Floor is A Floor [Open]

ADAM it's not a cry for help, it's just a cry for connection. The guy said 'Hell' weirdly, had an accent he didn't recognise...referenced something called...aaareee-gyrr? Adam squinted at him and tried to work out what the fuck he was going about through his hazy booze fog. "I didn't drown, no. I was on my horse, chasing after some rich asshole, then I...think I musta fallen or been shot or something, cos it all went black and weird then I was here." All things considered, drowning sounded like it might have been nicer. Though he did appreciate the dramatics of his own imagined death. He didn't really care for the nickname of 'drunkard', but he wasn't really in the position to argue it, laying in a mess on the floor of a public building. Besides, Are was right -- no one else seemed to know that this was obviously some kind of afterlife. Putting his offence to one side he forced his head up to look at his philosophical partner. "None of the rest of 'em wanna admit it, I don't think. People are scared of death and shit. But this ain't so bad. It's...boring, but not that bad." He'd certainly been through worse. "You got a name? Think you did anything to deserve being in Hell?" i'd trade my life and health, to make people pay attention. I'd sacrifice myself for the sake of entertainment.