It was hopeless. So hopeless. Terry didn't know what to do or who to turn to with his problems, which was why he sought for answers at the bottom of a glass. He'd snuck into one of the sports bars in the mall, hunkered down in a relatively quiet booth, and just ordered drinks.
He didn't know what else to do. His Guiding Voice was of absolutely no help beyond giving bullshit cryptic "advice" that you could find in some fortune cookie. He downed another glass and rested his head on the table, trying to ignore the pinging of his locket.
Steal