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“Man, no wonder Kat left you. You smell, your hair is knotted, and you haven't shaved in how many days? Forget fighting the gallu. One whiff of you would kill them." He looked at Kish as he stood up. "Don't strike a match. The alcohol fumes alone would send him up like a Roman candle." "Shut up," Sin snarled as he got up and grabbed the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's off the coffee table. He headed for his bedroom so that he wouldn't have to put up with their nagging anymore. At least that was the plan, but the walls were so thin, he couldn't help but overhear them. "When was the last time he changed those clothes?" Damien asked. "I think it was the last time he bathed ... the day Kat left." Sin heard the sound of glasses clinking together. Damien cursed. "How much shit is he drinking?" "Let me put it to you this way ... I restock the cabinet twice a day now." "Damn, how can he fight the demons and be that wasted?" "I think you were right earlier. He strikes a match and breathes at them. Like a human blowtorch.” — Sherrilyn Kenyon