[Brock is currently a little ways into the woods, looking around at trees and generally appearing as though he is wandering about like an idiot.
He's not, though.
He's actually looking for the right place to do something, and after about an hour of pacing around and getting nowhere, he pops open his journal and dictates into it.]Alright, so. I'm
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[Rethinking...]
Actually, given some recent circumstances, you might be right.
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What circumstances?
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Ugh. Found out my loss. Don't wanna talk about it.
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I dunno, you brought it up, man. But whatever.
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[...It may be becoming clear at this point that he has inadvisedly, and, flying in the face of good sense, been getting drunk again regardless.]
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Anyway, I don't want anybody throwing up in my [clubhouse] cabin. So if you're gonna hang out in it, you can't drink, pal.
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