Quoted By:
You rock back on your heels in mock shock, mouth agape.
[Why Miss Rose, I did not think you were capable of such tender advice.]
“Oh fuck you. Alright mailman, where’s this bar? You better not have used it as an excuse just to talk my damn ear off.”
You can’t help but let off a laughing fit you haven’t had for months. The two of you head the short distance to a dilapidated one story building with neon lights and pink, plastic birds stuck into the broken concrete. The sound of some country song or another is playing through the still summer night while a bored bouncer eyes the two of you warily.
You drop a handful of caps in his hand for the cover and head to the entrance right behind Cass. As she enters the doorway, an audible gasp escapes before she spins toward you.
“THEY HAVE A MECHANICAL BULL HERE?”
That’s news to you but that probably explains the exorbitant cover. Play it cool, Courier.
[Well duh, what’s some exotic liquor if there’s not some fun to have with it?]
She grabs you by the hand and pulls you into the Freeside HonkeyTonk.
Beer turns to liquor which turns to shots as you race Cass to show who has the most chest hair.
You and her are sitting at a small table in the corner of the room talking about nothing in particular.
You’ve both lost the ability to ride the bull after the 19th shot of something called “Kraken’s Rotgut” but it seems that you’ve almost got one over on her. You don’t tell her that she’s a much better rider than you.
[B-By my count, we’re uhhh, tied. Got one more in you, Red?]
Cass looks as bad as she feels, though there’s no way she’s going to let you drink her under the table.
“You’re on, bub. Tequila with the worm? Finish and I’ll forgive you for calling me Red.”
Fair enough. You reach out out and shoot back that last shot, letting the disgust shake through your body before slamming the glass back in-
