[After a few seconds of silence from the pantry, Hank groans, rolling himself toward the nearest bottle, then rolling the bottle out into the kitchen. It's probably some kind of oil; looks like vegetable oil, anyway.]

Here, use the rest of this up so I can just take that one. God, did you do all this when you were sick too, or am I the only one who was too fuckin out of it to remember to come get fucking dinner at the right time?

[Does he sound peeved? He's peeved. He was supposed to be halfway to passing out by now.]