"Shit, that's fussy." Must be a Southern thing. "Well, Astrid won't care unless you're gonna try something."

And then Lazar'd have to kick his ass, which'd be a real shame. Barrow's knees are shit enough.

"Only worried on me for the wife." He necks one final drink — bit like a pelican gobbling pigeons — before passing it back. "You ever go see her? The sister."