"No alcohol, either," he says, shaking his head. It makes him think of Rick, who'd been too stubborn to accept what he was, who'd drank like a fish and out it came in black bile. He shakes that loose, not liking to think about Rick or Bill Macy. Instead, he puts his thoughts on good things, like his family, like Simon, like being in control of his PDS. "I don't mind heading inside." He doesn't feel the cold, but he doesn't exactly love the ambience of the graveyard.