It's the waiting that's unbearable. Like sitting outside and watching a storm system roll in, air pressure playing merry hell with your sinuses, all of the sky's wrath and ruin whipping about but not yet breaking. That first crash of thunder a horrible, wonderful sound-

But Jim's not ready to rain down on him just yet.

Sighing, tired down to the bones for which Jim named him, Leonard finishes his glass. Pours himself and Jim another, god knows they'll need it. "Got about three before the symptoms get worse. Steady decline after that, look'n at ten, maybe eleven months tops."