He could do this. He could do this. He's not the same person he was before—he could fix this, without the help of some fucked-up town. He just feared what it would take, how long it would go on before he could do something about his own state of mind. He's distracted from his thoughts by the mention of where the hell they are to begin with—he groans and runs his hand over his face, mostly talking to himself.

"Did I wake up here again...?" He pauses, looking back awkwardly at Murphy with some attempt of a smile. It's all sheepish and hardly uplifting, like someone who just got caught egging their teacher's house. But he's trying, okay? "Didn't even drink with Heather or anything."