[ Benny lets out a soft snort, not quite a laugh. The bottle tilts in his hand as he refills his drink, because at this point, rubbing alcohol would taste better than the cocktail he's now abandoning to the pool gods.

The bottle promptly gets offered to Amos. ]

That thing tasted like somebody melted a cough drop in dishwater.

He leans back again, one arm resting behind his head, lazily watching the flickering reflections on the water. While he wouldn't say 'this is the life', it's certainly a far enough cry from Purgatory that he'd at least think it. ]

But it was cold, and it came with one of those little umbrellas, so I let it slide.