#imagine seeing a full glass of water and thinking it was gin that somebody poured for themselves intentionally

[ozmatippetarius]

I found my way to the kitchen. It was like a kitchen in an old person’s house, with shabby red linoleum and—in keeping with this odd apartment—a door that led onto the roof. I filled a glass from the tap and bolted it, a case of too much, too quickly. [...] I filled my glass again and went to stand by the door: deep breaths, I thought, fresh air, that’s the ticket … Charles burned his finger, cursed, and slammed the oven shut. When he turned around he seemed surprised to find me. “Oh, hi,” he said. “What is it? Can I get you another drink?” “No, thanks.” He peered at my glass. “What’ve you got? Is that gin? Where did you dig that up?”

Richard will go on to spend the next 500 pages insisting that Charles doesn't have an alcohol problem, actually.