As the circle of drinking shamans grows larger, Billy gives a nod towards Herne. He lifts his shot glass and smiles warmly.
"I will drink to that, John," he offers. "To hangovers and sorting out the memories."
He tilts the glass back, draining it in a fluid gesture and breathing out slowly again.
"And I honestly have no clue about the nature of souls, memories, and... all that. To the tribe, I serve my purpose. I speak with the spirits. But I know how you feel, John. It's all the little things that add up to who we are... the memories in our heads, the relationships we have forged... the me who is who I am to you, the you who is you to me... all that adds up to something, John. Just what, I don't know. But it has to be something, right?"
He puts the glass back down and glances towards Herne before turning back to Challenger.
"For what ever it is worth, John? Whoever you are and whatever you are, you've only ever done right by me."
With that, he reaches for the bottle Herne produced. He opens it, sniffs it slightly and makes a face. He glances suspiciously at Herne, tilting his head to the side.
"Did the man you buy this off of have three teeth and a backyard still made from old cans salvaged from the power plant?" Billy asks. "Or was he just a Donelly?"