When they invited Kieran to go with them to the whorehouse, he declined: "It doesn't seem right to treat women like that."

"Just because you're fucking a girl, that doesn't mean you're treating her badly," Heath pointed out reasonably. Kieran apologized, but he still didn't accept the invitation.

So it's just Heath and Remy. The plan was to do a little drinking at Heath's room before hitting the whorehouse, where the booze was going to cost as much as the girls. It seemed like a brilliant idea when they thought of it, but now that their blood is infused with thick pleasance from the cheapest beer they could stomach, the whorehouse seems miles and miles away. Which it is. It's not like they couldn't walk those miles drunk, it's not like they haven't done it before coming back the other way… but they're kind of settled in now. The floor is clean and comfortable to lie on if you want to, which Remy does, and the beer is plentiful and priced right. There's only one problem with the new plan of staying in:

"No girls here," Remy observes to the ceiling.

"That's not a problem," Heath says from somewhere off to his left.

And then Heath is right there, or at least his hand is.

"Well," Remy says, watching the hand disappear inside his pants, "It's not a problem yet, because I ain't hard."