Keith doesn't drink anymore - not frequently, anyway. Alcohol doesn't have the same soothing, mind-numbing properties anymore. He feels less like partying hard, wreaking havoc, and letting slip the dogs of war; it'd be much nicer to adopt a band mascot and spend a relaxing night petting it. But in an attempt to convince Virgo that he's still Keith Badman, he tries to keep up the appearance of going out.

Nursing only his second beer, he notices his bandmate still near the bar. The crowd simply parts to let him through. There's an advantage to being kinda big. So unless Dino has any objections, Keith is going to muscle in next to him and flag the bartender down. "Put his tab on mine, please."

There's a pit in his stomach, a sour taste in his mouth. He can't bear to see anyone like this.

"You're out later than usual."