booze buddies (open)

I'm not beaten by this yet

"Okay...so, he's deathly afraid of fire...." Ingrid raised her eyebrows. "Afraid of fire? That's dumb. Where I'm from, if you let a fire go out, they charge you with a fucking crime," she said, taking another sip of the whiskey.

Then she was quiet for a minute. (She would have made several comments if the words "big ol' asshole" hadn't been resigned to internal monologue. Pooh... Or perhaps big ol' pooh was more apt.)

Speaking of monologue, the whole bit about her being incapable of relating to the man's problems was spot on. Maybe once, back when she had fucks to give, she would have understood. Maybe she would have even said something helpful! But the old Ingrid had gone the way of the old T Swizzle (but with less white-girl-rapping), so instead, she replied with: "What, is he made of wood or something?" Amun did have a habit of thinking with his dick, after all.

You can't tell me to regret