In Doc's humble opinion there is always space for more. They will redo the living room. Shift the bed and add a partition to this room. Even find some cladding and padding up half the garage if they have to. That door downstairs has to always be open for anyone who should need to come through it. There will always be room for lost souls.

"Well then I shall stand, or- sit. Corrected." Doc tilts his head and cracks a smile, holding the bottle with three fingers left against his thigh. "If that is home then I have been home, ever since it was just the two of us staring into a bathtub talking horseshit about copper pipes and cornmeal."

He lifts the bottle in a silent toast and almost empties it when he tips it back this time.

"Guess you never know when you've got something worth holding onto until it's gone."