"Then there's no point in worrying," Jesse mutters, taking another swig from his bottle. One drink left, and then he needs another. This is not even close to being enough. "If it's them we're all fucked." Wow, optimistic, Jesse, thanks for that.

"S'not much we're in control of here. And we're gonna run outta booze eventually." His voice is dull and flat. "S'fucked up when you want the thing that's hurting you t'be a bunch of scientists who can pick at you from a lab instead of a nightmare. The fuck."