[There's no denying how wrong it all feels: a miserable end to a miserable world. It could be worse, she tells herself, lifting the bottle from Ros's fingertips and admires her handiwork. There's some pristine irony in the fact that with only two survivors left out of god knows how many this skeletal wreckage held beforehand, Ros is better at brewing by miles than any of the proper pubs ever were.]
no subject
How is it today?