”And yet it doesn’t keep them from coming here,” she says, taking another swig from the piss they call booze. It was getting harder to drink the stuff knowing there was actually good alcohol in the Grounds and Torchline. She can’t help but think of The Hang Man and the mamajuana, it’s syrupy sweetness that she could never drink more than one of at any given time. Still, it had been like swinging in a honey hammock in the shade, a simile that Weaver was finally starting to understand. Torchline was probably going to make her soft.
She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ”I offered to help, not to feed two large boys. Korbin eats enough, though gods only know where it all goes on him.” Her brother was a reedy thing, though he did eat. She supposes too many lean years had left him sinewy instead of muscular, though some of that she thinks is just him. Erebor had been a mountain, after all. ”You eat all my meat and I won’t tell you where to get decent booze,” she adds with a wink.
She chuckles, her eyes sparkling with amusement. ”I offered to help, not to feed two large boys. Korbin eats enough, though gods only know where it all goes on him.” Her brother was a reedy thing, though he did eat. She supposes too many lean years had left him sinewy instead of muscular, though some of that she thinks is just him. Erebor had been a mountain, after all. ”You eat all my meat and I won’t tell you where to get decent booze,” she adds with a wink.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
