It's. [ a pause. it is trouble, on one hand, but is it so much trouble that he wants to bellyache about it? like he's not up to the task of existing with three other people in his immediate space? ] Troublesome and outside of what I'm used to, but not so horrifically unappealing that I can't tolerate it.

People just don't come over, Sam. I don't have much in the way of personal company.

[ each bite of stolen cheese tastes like victory. every minute Gilgamesh spends not thinking about the change in his routine, the better--he's still undecided of whether he's amused or angry. ]

Come now. I like beer just fine. It just has to be good beer--or actual beer, if you consider most American storebought offerings.

Is this before or after the proper mausoleum is built?