“I don’t see them forcing strange roots in your mouth or telling you to go cross-country to bother the neighbors and puke on their doorsteps. You think you can get away with everything by being charming, but no one’s charming when they’re drunk.” Jrrru stares at me. My face heats a little, because I just lectured an alien that’s twice the size of me. Why do I care if he drinks too much or not? Or if he thinks too highly of himself? I’ll never see him again the moment he leaves my house, and really that’s fine. Let him be a drunk party boy. They apparently have them on this end of the universe,
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