"Don't think I have much of a choice if this weather keeps up." Doc has something of a routine. He goes to fetch supplies from the general store and from the Grey Gull. Nudges the moonshine along to the next stage. Checks for anything new and/or pressing in the town hall. Walks around town to see if any new areas are now accessible. Otherwise he would find something new in the library. He has borrowed all sorts of texts from modern medicine to homeopathy to boatbuilding to weaponsmithing. Then he tries to chip away at a willow tree before it gets too dark. Suffice to say, he isn't often found in the house until it's time for their unscheduled drinking session.

But they might just have a dangerously neverending drinking session if the snow doesn't let up.

"I'll try not to singlehandedly drink us dry on the first night we're snowed in," he jokingly promises. Okay, half-jokingly.