"I'm sure he is." Rhade replied, in a wobbly, drunken slur, indicated that he really didn't think he was ever going anywhere again. But not one to waste good alcohol, he tossed the rest of his drink back. And for the third time today, the world became a little too unstable to hold him. Telemachus' eyes rolled back and he slid off his chair, which seemed suddenly to unsteady, and to the ground. Good solid floor.