Bones stared at the bottle, then back up at Jim. "I love you," he said with a grin as he uncapped it and took a long sniff. "Grandpa used to tell me that the barrels they used to age this stuff were different before the war, that the wood was altered somehow, and he could always taste the difference." Bones took a long sip, feeling the familiar burn slide down his throat. "Gotta say, I think he was right."

"Where you been?" he asked, noting the other bags in the room. "Did you eat?"