...this is some kinda bullshit, man. Shit of the bullest proportions.
[The boys are out late tonight, drinking themselves stupid at the bar. They've been passing a bottle of vodka back and forth (mostly it stays in Haine's corner) and alternating between rambunctious drinking songs (just Badou) and inventing colourful new ways to describe the
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Chi smelled food but-
Phew! There's a bad smell now!
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The smell isn't going to get any better.
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That's all you got. Loser fetches your mangy ass some smokes? Real clever.
[He pours another shot, glancing around to see if there are any takers.]
And what do I get? Besides bragging rights and your undying respect.
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That's it? What does the winner get?
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Money's pretty useless. What do you want?
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Shouldn't you be the one we drink against? Or would that be too easy a win?
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[He glances at his partner and rolls his eyes. no idea who this guy is, but who the hell does he think he is giving him that stupid quirked eyebrow look.]
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Pick something strong so we can get this over with.
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[He pours himself a shot and pushes the bottle down the bar for the other guy.]
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