When Hank had first arrived, he'd told Lew in no uncertain terms to say no to drugs. That wasn't to say that Hank himself hadn't continued to chalk up a noble white line every now and then, and it was hard to keep up the do as I say, not as I do with Lew when the coke wasn't technically his. Hank had seen first hand what that shit could do to people, but on the Island, away from Karen and Becca and all things pure and beautiful in the world, sometimes a bump was the only thing that could get him through the day.

And sometimes it took a bump and a beer and a pretty face. Fortunately the first had already been taken care of and the latter two were in his sights. When he reached the bar, he tapped Sarah on one shoulder but popped up on the opposite side of her, gesturing for a drink before turning back to her. "Hakuna matata?"