"Yup." Amos's demeanor was calm, and neutral. There was an openness to his expression but neither did he smile. He took the shot and downed it, huffed afterward and then looked to his side and took in the make of the man. Young. That was all Amos could really gather at that point, and he wondered what would be the most expected greeting to a stranger in Hell.

He thought for a second but was too drunk to really come up with anything and so he returned the question instead. "You?"