"Later," Elisha said with a stubborn set to his chin. It might not work as well, but having the whiskey burn down his throat instead of depending on a vicodin made him feel more in control of the situation.

He maneuvered with the fork on his left hand and took a bite of the crepe. He wasn't quite ambidextrous, but he was pretty close. Which was the saving grace here, really; he didn't want to deal with either making a mess or being fed until he was healed enough to deal with using his right hand at all.

He looked at Hadyn and the look he was starting to think of as Skeptical Doctor, and he sighed. "I'll just drink this one whiskey, and if I can't get to sleep tonight you can hit me with narcotics, okay?" he said. "But I don't like the way the morphine made me feel, so I'd prefer not."