"Already have that," he grumbles, clearing his throat a few more times to regain his voice. "This would burn it off."

He's had vodka with her before, but in his current state, this stuff is good. He moves to grab a few broken pieces of barn wood, piling them in a spot where there has obviously been a small fire made before, contained by broken stones and concrete blocks.

When he lights the fire, it does not smoke, yet it burns.

(Small tricks he can manage.

Like finding water to fill the pot.)