That's an understatement, and now the rollercoaster has reached a flat stretch, somewhere it coasts slowly for a little while, enough to allow Steak's limbs to flood with exhaustion and relief after being tossed around on loops and dragged through peaks and valleys.

Not that he hates heights. Of course not. Why would he ever be scared of those.

Not the point.

Steak sighs and leans back, falling onto the bed and tucking his free hand behind his head. Honestly, Red Wine... "Hah. Why can't you apologise for every time you climb on me when you're drunk?"

That's much more painful, obviously.