The smell of poor life choices

"Not a doctor? You sure know a lot about animals and their eating habits, as well as diseases and infections."
Phillip turned from the conversation and ran his fingers through his thin hair while exhaling deeply.
"Right then, he has a point, we should clean it." Phillip turned to the Cook "Grab some warm water and a few bandages."
The Cook nodded with a grunt and made for the kitchen "So I guess we'll just wait till he wakes up."
Phillip furrowed his brow as he sniffed the air. "Is that. . . Alcohol?" Phillip had noticed this scent when that pompour writer whose name he didn't care to remember passed by with a member of staff. The scent of poor life choices was not far off at that time, but this time, it was just alcohol.