"Ready and willing to drink my weight in bourbon and mix it with something spicy so I have unbelievably bad heartburn and a killer hangover."

When said out loud, it didn't sound particularly enticing but Coop could ignore that for the moment. He knew the journey to feeling like shit would be the fun part. Tomorrow morning he'd worry about the hangover and any potential wing induced nausea. When that happened, he'd bury himself underneath his blankets and live like a mole for a few hours until he felt better.

"You buy the first round," Coop told him, already heading for the door. "It's only right for making me wait such a long time for you to be finished with your smart people work."