s i n c l a i r

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gracmartn:

She suppresses her grin, pursing her lips as she avoids eye contact, taking the seat across from her. What kind of person went into this not thinking about a certain person? —Of course, she was, but Grace’s curiosity didn’t stop there. “—Well, yeah, but… is it off limits if I want to know about everything?”

❝Everything?❞ She made no effort to conceal her curiosity as she continued to shuffle; cards landed between her fingers with deft precision while she leaned into her high-backed chair. This girl was interesting, no doubt. As far as customers went, Cassandra preferred the ones who were excited by the thrill of a reading rather than hinging on the accuracy of the results. With that in mind, she gave the deck one last shuffle, ❝Let’s start with some basics, huh? If we’re gonna cover everything, tell me what this person is to you. After we get that covered, you can close your eyes and I’ll start shuffling. When you feel like I’ve shuffled long enough, tell me to stop and we’ll get to work.❞

As an afterthought, Cassandra leaned forward not unlike a woman sharing a secret with an old friend, ❝The trick is to really be in tune with the spirits and yourself. You’ll get a little feeling when it’s time to tell me to stop.❞ At least, she would think she might. If nothing else, people usually told Cassandra to deal in order to get over the awkwardness of sitting silently with their eyes closed.

#convo:grace

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

How tempered he must’ve been. A master of some ancient form of meditation to escape Cass’ place without her catching onto the fact that he’d ever been frustrated. “Nah, that’s fine. I’m completely over it.” He said, shooting an obvious & fast glance back at her before settling on a genuine smile as he slid over the rope. “That thing should be velvet. It’d really class up the joint.” He commented as he ascended the stairs.

“Jeez, act like you own the place why don’t you.” He said, moving to the window as he spoke & she lost an article or two. Lifting a closed shutter with the tip of his finger, he looked out at the street & smirked despite his jealousy of the view Cass had commandeered for herself. Dropping it back into place, he was relieved to turn & see the bottle in Cass’ hand.

“No, my vaccinations are all up to date.” He assured her as he stepped forward to receive the bottle. “Take your time.” He offered, drumming his fingers against the neck of the bottle before stepping back towards the window. He played with the blinds for another moment between stiff pulls before meandering into the living room & taking a seat on the couch. Slouching into his seat he reached for the remote & flipped the TV on. The tail end of a home restoration show glinted off the bottom of the bottle. As it lowered, PJ looked content to find the television on the same channel he’d left it on the last time he’d been over. With his eyes still on the TV, he set the bourbon on the coffee table & blindly found his shoelaces to pull them apart. Neatly, he set them beside one another just adjacent to his socked feet. “I said take your time but I may drink you dry.” He called, though he’d slowed on his pulls off the bottle sense taking a seat. He did rather enjoy Cass’ place. Its convenience was undeniable but Cass’ personality seeped into the apartment & he could appreciate her style. She probably needed a pet, he often considered but would always stop that flow of thought by remembering how neglected it would wind up. Even he had once tried to keep fish. He’d watched them all take a counterclockwise ride in the toilet bowl. A cat surely wouldn’t fit down Cass’ pipes.

PJ’s pseudo-complaints weren’t exactly unwarranted since Cassandra took her sweet time only to emerge in a baggy t-shirt and knit shorts. He was settled in long before she breezed past him and into the adjacent kitchen again, calling to him as she went. ❝Drink however much you want, but I’m not cleaning up after you if you’re sick tomorrow. There’s a zero tolerance policy on vomiting here at Cafe Obscura.❞ Anyone who didn’t know her might’ve just believed that, but her apartment had already seen the pair at their worst on many occasions -- - Mardi Gras was especially bleak. What was one more hangover on top of a hundred?

When she finally crossed the threshold again, it was with two bottles of water in her hands. Something was muttered about an ‘ounce of prevention’ just before tossing one bottle in PJ’s general direction. One bottle of water wasn’t going to save her from a hangover, but it’d keep the taste of stale bourbon out of her mouth when she finally woke up. That thought aside, Cassandra flopped down beside PJ and reached for the bottle. It was almost impressive, how fluidly she could demolish his personal space -- - long legs draped over his lap, occupying a space that was familiar enough now that she’d had a significant amount to drink - -- all while taking a healthy pull from the bottle that was passed back in his direction. Whether he opted to drink or place it within arms reach was his decision, as Cassandra was more interested in whatever he had selected to watch.

❝Do you just sit at home and watch HGTV when I’m not around?❞ She wasn’t entirely skeptical about the idea (and she usually ended up watching whatever he’d left the channel on), but she did gesture vaguely toward the remote, ❝I DVR’d Sunday Mass for you, if all this pagan nonsense is too much.There’s Netflix and HBO, too. I’m gonna die if I have to watch more Property Brothers or American Pickers or whateverthefuckis the hot new thing.❞ .

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indianaharper:

“—Oh, hey,” she breathes, completely immersed in her own world enough to feel a slight shock when she heard the voice beside her. “Uh—well, I was.. I mean, I don’t..” What are you doing here? Hesitation ensues as she falters to compose herself in a suitable time frame, standing there a little.. stumped, to say the least. “I just.. I was wondering about your services. Whether they might—help me.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had awkwardly shuffled into her shop, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. In the face of a customer’s indecision, Cassandra remained calm and pleasant enough; a placid smile was adopted, expression unreadable beyond cool professionalism. If they had met at a bar or any other venue, her impatience would’ve led Cassandra to bark out some kind of order or offering some kind of verbal laceration without a second thought. In the space of Cafe Obscura, however, Cassandra was just a business owner and a messenger for some higher power -- - impatience wasn’t a luxury she could afford.

❝That depends on what you need. I offer plenty of services -- - palm reading, tarot, even seances if you’re looking for something lengthy - -- but it just depends on why you came here.❞ And surely the woman had a reason for gracing Cassandra’s little cafe, ❝What brought you here today? You can call me Cassandra, by the way. Madame Sinclair, if you wanna get theatrical. Cass, if you don’t wanna waste time on three syllables.❞

#convo:indiana

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eSUSgracmartn:

“—Geez, I’ve always wanted to do one of these things. I can just ask for anything? Like, career, family… relationships, friendships?”

❝If you want a tarot reading, I can do that. Just give me a general idea of what I should be drawing for -- - what energies I should be in tune with or whatever.❞ The deck of cards was procured, shuffled aimlessly between her hands as she nodded toward a table off toward a window, ❝Something tells me there’s a certain person you want to know about? Or a specific relationship? Go ahead and have a seat.❞

#convo:grace

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silasatwater:

“I’m not sure, honestly. To be honest, I’m a little—” Don’t say high. “—Curious? It got the best of me, the night is coming to a close… I figured, why the hell not, right?”

She squinted, taking note of his pause and the way he carried himself. One too many nights spent partying with strangers was all she needed to draw upon in order to guess what was up with the guy -- - he was either drunk or had taken something. But that wasn’t her business, was it? Not if he was a paying customer looking to reach out and communicate with the spirits.

❝Well, that’s one way to do it. Let’s see -- -❞ Since he hadn’t specified what he wanted, Cassandra gave him a hard glance and finally came to a decision, ❝How much time have you got? I can read your palm or I can find my tarot deck.❞

#convo:silas

+ C a f e O b s c u r a

#convo:talan #just ignore that butterfly #ya feel

talanzaretti:

“You still got to do that official spiel every time, Madame Sinclair?” Talan grinned, sauntering up to the counter. “So what sick new card trick you showing me?”

❝That spiel keeps people coming back here.❞ And if the store hadn’t been empty, she would have started on some ridiculous -- - albeit convincing - -- tangent about the authenticity of her abilities. As it was, Cassandra just looked over the menu. ❝Nothin’ new. I don’t think you’ve had tea leaves read yet, have you? Whaddya say, Zaretti? Feeling like a cup of earl grey and some ominous fortune to go with it?❞

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maddie-york:

Glancing up from the shelf she was perusing, Maddie smiled at the brunette before looking back down. “I’m not sure really, I’m trying to find something that will freak my brother out a bit, you know, a sort of joke present, but I have no idea what to get. Got anything that would work?”

These were the kind of questions she particularly enjoyed. Although Cassandra was fully committed to selling her ‘tricks’ as some sort of reality, she could already tell this woman wasn’t going to buy it if she tried some kind of dramatic spiel about how everything on the chalkboards above them was genuine. Embarrassing herself wasn’t on Cassandra’s agenda today, which made her more than willing to drop the facade of a powerful and omniscient psychic while there was only one person in the shop.

Her attention was immediately taken with scanning the boards, “Well, depends on what kind of person he is. Would he be more scared if I told him things about himself that I shouldn’t know, or would it bother him more if I contacted a relative on the Other Side. Nothing too traumatic, maybe some great aunt or uncle.”

#convo:maddie

whatever-catalina:

“That’s true. They think whatever shit they’re talking is suddenly the most important thing in a girl’s life and that we’re crazy if we don’t listen to them.”

“It was some old mid-western lady asking if I knew where some weird voodoo store was ’cause she was a tourist. I just asked her if my Argentinian ass looked like a tour guide to her.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Don’t these people know how to use a GPS? If she’s already on the bus, why the fuck’s she asking for directions anyway? Her fate is sealed; she’s going wherever that bus takes her.”

#convo:catalina

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

“Do you?“ PJ asked, skeptical. “I’m sure her Yelp page reflects your views. I’ve never seen an angry customer in all honesty. I may be a skeptic but you can’t deny the appeal.“ He said, grabbing for his straw & missing it with his lips the first time.

“Damn, two sponsorship deals?“ He asked, speaking around the straw. “Are we talking about Folgers or Starbucks?“ He asked, brow rising. “& also, what the hell? That was the shortest tour ever. – You know what? I’m not even going to complain.“ He expected to get progressively more belligerent & wander around the Quarter but his home in Marginy was a good distance away from the convenient located Cafe Obscura.

“Fuck it, I’m sold!“ He said, straw rattling against the lack of content in his cup. “If you don’t have any booze up there though we gon’ need a pitstop.“ He said, stepping forward past her airplane director arm. On the way off the street he lifted the lid of the trash bin & threw his cup away, keeping propped up for Cass. If she wasn’t finished already, she’d have to hurry.

“& please never say the word IKEA around me again. You know it’s triggering for me.” He could instantly conjure up the image of himself helping put together furniture at Cass’ apartment when she’d decided didn’t want the shit that had come with the place. It had been a nightmare, one in which PJ had to at pretend he was infuriated with the whole country of Sweden. It was equal parts comforting & aggravating that he’d built the couch he’d be sleeping on.

She couldn’t deny that the tour was short, but she could laugh at the idea that she was ever going to let him get past the shop without making at pit stop at the very least. The fact that he held the trash can open for her drink was sign enough that they wouldn’t be leaving, which was fine with her. This way, she could put on some pajamas and relax rather than wandering around the city in skinny jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket.

She laughed genuinely and unabashedly when he indicated that the word ‘IKEA’ was triggering. Sure, she’d made him assemble plenty of furniture before but she didn’t think it had affected him so negatively. Still, she laughed as she locked the door behind him and indicated the staris that were usually roped off with some twine. ❝As long as you don’t mind seeing furniture from ‘that place,’ then we’re golden.❞

Once the pair was upstairs, Cassandra had a chance to kick her shoes off and let all the tension of the day melt out of herself. With just one long stretch, she was good to go. It took no time at all before she was tossing her jacket onto the floor; she didn’t give half a shit as long as she ended up in the kitchen quickly. When she did finally emerge, it was with a bottle of wax-sealed bourbon and a smile on her face.

❝You’re not still concerned about cooties, are you? Because I can get you a glass, if you are.❞ She wouldn’t. That was evidenced by her quick uncoiling of red wax from the bottle, the cap unscrewing soon afterward. Once she had taken a nice swig of bourbon, Cass held the bottle out to her company. ❝Here. Take this and get a drink. I wanna change into something comfortable before I pass out.❞

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

Displeasure written all over his features, he swung his head back & forth. “Mayweather? Oh god. You’re gonna lose money on that bet. You & everybody else.“ He clicked his tongue. “It’s fine, just makes the pot bigger for me.“ He lifted his shoulders. Unlike his comrade, he did not have money on the fight because he was not a degenerate gambler. Not when he was sober anyway. Drunk PJ would bet on the wrong side of traffic light turning green.

“I can’t tell if I’m the fuck in question or you really expect me to put on another man’s pants.“ He’d stay over but fuck those pants. “Christ, I can smell that. I smell every ingredient.“ PJ’s nose was scrunched in the aftermath of Cass’ burp. “I can taste it.“ He said, slapping his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Washing the flavor down with a drink from his own glass, he submitted. “You’ll get your money’s worth tonight, then you won’t have to come next week. How about that? Two birds, one beautiful stone.“ He tried out the bargain but knew she’d reject it. He downed the contents of his glass, snatched Cass’ receipt & in a matter of moments had the cheesy plastic cup in his hand. New Orleans was a magical place. “Put your drink back down & let’s get out of here.“ He said refusing her sarcastic toast & promptly walked onto the street, straw stuck into the corner of his mouth as if it were an upside down snorkel.

Outside it was ten times cooler. His t-shirt clung to his back but it hand’t bothered him until he noticed the breeze. He drank happily from his grenade green cup & stopped off the curb happy as clam. The street was far from empty but the foot traffic wasn’t terrible. “Well this is Bourbon Street & as you can see there is now law about open liquor containers in our fair city.” For emphasis, he took another drink, eyes clamping closed as brain freeze held him stiff for a moment. “Ahem, no walk with me please. Over there you’ll find a phoney psychic. Don’t worry, she’s not in. Rarely is. Dunno how the place stays open - oh wait, yes I do. Some handsome fella corrals people in there like it’s his goddamn job. Funnily enough, they do not serve coffee.”

❝Of course they’re someone else’s pants. When have you ever fuckin’ left something at my house?❞ Her brow furrowed, elbow slamming into him as if to demand that he counter her argument while she sucked her drink through her straw. ❝You’ve not gotta wear ‘em, but we’ll need to stop somewhere and get you some clothes if you’re that goddamn sensitive.❞

Any commentary about her belching was met with a wide grin; there was no denying that booze made her acid reflux flare up in a way that created fucking nuclear burps. Poor PJ just happened to be the recepient, to which she could only say, ❝If you can taste the ingredients, then you should probably write ‘em down.❞ Not that he needed help formulating cocktails.

She was equally proud that she had finished her drink, but pouting as soon as PJ commandeered the receipt. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened, and it wouldn’t be the last; still, she tried her best to make a mental note about paying him back in due time and in some way other than money. Still yet, she allowed him to deal with their tabs and entered the chilled night air alongside him.

It wasn’t long before her arm was looped through his, her mouth firmly clamped around her straw while she nodded toward anything he said about Bourbon Street. Only when he passed her shop did she stop, looking into the vacant windows as excitedly as she had seen so many tourists do before.

❝Well, I’ve got on good authority that she’s a great and genuine psychic, ❞ As she spoke, her free hand began fishing through her back pocket before she procured a key that was dangled between the two of them. ❝They’ve got coffee upstairs if you wanna check it out. I’ve heard her apartment is sponsored by Ikea and Bed, Bath & Beyond.❞

#nolachat #i figure this will leave open customers or just curious people #you can assume connections!#cass is in full on business mode rn

+ C a f e O b s c u r a

❝Welcome to Cafe Obscura. What are you seeking?❞

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

“Mayweather is fighting McGregor. You know that right?“ PJ said. “The line is not so well defined.“ He argued the point as he mopped up the trail of condensation with a cocktail napkin. “You’re makin’ me noyvous.” PJ said, in some variation of a forties era accent on the last word of his explanation.

“Back to my place? My god.” PJ said, his hand coming daintily to his heart. “& here you almost had me believing that I was the one taking advantage.” Truth be told, he wouldn’t stop drinking & he couldn’t even put a number on the amount of times either one of them had ended up at the other’s respective home.

“You’re closer.” He said, dropping the act. “But I don’t have my jammies over there.” He chuckled, amused with himself as another - unasked for - drink appeared in front of him. Relieved he didn’t have to ask, he let it sit for a moment. “Don’t you dare,” He said, eyes narrowing at the suggestion that she slow down. “A little taste?” He asked, straightening his back . “You did not just call it that. There should probably be more boobs though. Less ghosts, more tit. It’s what the people want.” He laughed. “I dunno. Expect some corny lines & a bunch of Madame LaLaurie. They love that shit.” He confirmed a little sheepishly. “So what? Should we hit the streets. Let’s get a Grenade & I’ll give you a lil pre-tour. That way you can prep all your jokes.”

❝I know that, dipshit! I’m trying to be topical. Mayweather is gonna win -- - everybody knows it.❞ In fact, Cass had money on it. Whether her faith was misguided or not was yet to be determined, but she was currently content to etch away at her drink until there was nothing left. PJ was talking and that gave her enough time to drain half her glass, scrunch her nose and suck in a deep breath all before she even had to respond to whateverthefuck he said.

❝It’s fine if you wanna stay at my place. Some fuck left his sweats there once and I’ve had ‘em ever since, so you can wear those.❞ She didn’t expect he would, but she kept the offer open. Cass had to take a minute to belch (like a goddamn lady, through her nose and with a great amount of effort) before she set off to finish the last half of her drink. ❝I do want a taste! I mean, that’s the least you can do! I’ve been givin’ your customers quality psychic readings for a long time.❞

Really, she didn’t expect it; she didn’t even expect that he’d allow her on the bus when she inevitably showed up. But soon enough, he mentioned getting out of the bar in order for her to have a little bit of a tour back to one or the other’s home. ❝Yes! One grenade and then I’d better be seeing New Orleans in a way I’ve never seen it before.❞ She didn’t need more prompting to signal the bartender over, to order a hand grenade for herself and her guest. By the time that the bartender returned, she was already well on her way to squaring away her tab.

Once both drinks were in front of them, Cass lifted her cocktail with an absolutely elated grin, ❝To your tour! This better be good, PJ. Drink fast; I don’t wanna waste any more time in here now that you’re gonna show me around the city.❞

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

“I might.“ He succumbed to her theory, pinching his bottom lip between his thumb & forefinger as he did so. He may or may not have volunteered there before. He may or may not go to Mass. He may or may not help little old ladies cross the street. It was all fodder for Cass’ entertainment in the end. So he’d leave it like that, ambiguous despite the fact that he figured she was on to him regardless. It wasn’t the worst thing, to be considered a do-gooder. At least he wasn’t an asshole.

“You could’ve saved your money, or given it straight to me & just walked up on us in Jackson Square.“ He offered with a small shrug. “I will, however, blow you away. So at least you’re prepared even if I’d rather slit my wrists than have you milling around behind me with a group of strangers. No doubt talking smack.“ Just talking about it was making the nerves ride up in his stomach.

“Are both of those things not a race?“ He asked, satisfied as she drained the glass. “Oh, I can do that much.“ He insisted, eyes shifting to the bartender on the tail of Cass’ challenge. His next drink was that of a fish. Gulp. Gulp. “So what if I am?“ He asked, his breath fogging the glass he still held to his mouth. “At least you won’t be alone in the plight.“ He insisted, draining the rest & slamming the glass down, sliding it with just a bit too much gusto. His hands went up in victory just before Cass’ drink came but in an instant he was scrambling to catch the glass that slipped over the bartender’s side of the bar. Mortified, PJ leaned over the bar, too little too late to make a difference. The bartender had managed to side step the spashback as PJ flooded him with apologies. “Christ, y’all need to cut me off evidently. I’m so sorry, Rick. That was my bad.“ His apology & rounding his stool was met with a hand up to stop him. The other was used to set down Cass’ drink. “No, PJ. Don’t you dare come around this bar. It’s just ice.“ PJ’s eyes were pleading but Rick had already collected the still in-tact glass from the floor. Reluctantly, PJ found his seat again. “Can’t believe you made me do that.“ He said, side-eyeing Cass. “I’m a monster.“ He said pathetically, though he was only half joking. “Honestly, I need to be stopped.”

❝They’re both races, but totally different.❞ With loosening the muscles in her neck and extremities, Cassandra had no problem with deeming the current situation a philosophical debate. For effect, she nodded solemnly and presented her case, ❝It’d be like asking an MMA fighter to take on a boxer. Totally different disciplines. I’m disappointed that you don’t know that, PJ.❞

But she was not disappointed in his ability to demolish his drink in a few gulps. In fact, Cass looked entirely impressed with the display and even went out of her way to applaud him very quietly and in a terribly forced-posh manner. ❝Color me impressed! You might catch up after all.❞ He would and she knew it; PJ was the only person she met who could give her some stiff competition when it came to drinking, and he was still just a slight margin above herself. This was something she attributed to his build, but it wasn’t going to stop her from trying to outdrink him.

Then again, at least she wasn’t spilling drinks all over the goddamn bar.

As soon as the glass began to tip, Cass flinched and PJ leaped into action. She continued to nurse her own drink while she watched the chaos unfold, eventually having to sit her glass down in favor of letting out a peal of absolutely delighted laughter. Poor PJ was floundering and even the bartender felt sorry for him (though she attributed that to potential familiarity between the men). ❝You might need to slow down. You’re a mess, spilling your drinks and shit.❞ Cass, on the other hand, picked up her drink after she managed to compose herself, ❝Have a few more! You’re already this far gone. May as well be shitfaced before we take it back to yours or mine.❞ She winked in his direction, completely shameless even as she tossed a fair portion of her drink back and placed the glass back on the surface of the bar. ❝I'm gonna have to slow down and let you catch me, actually.❞ Meaning that she’d be having a water and a little something to eat soon, and it was definitely so she wouldn’t be falling over herself by the time she left the bar. ❝S’what should I expect on this tour? Gimme a taste of what you do for Boobs & Booze or whatever it is.❞

you, me & the bottle | Cass & PJ

pjbogden:

PJ’s sigh was a monumental one. His head fell back as he looked at the ceiling for something to fall on him. “Cancel that.” He said, pushing her phone away before reaching back for it just as fast. “Pistachio?!” He rolled his eyes. “If you show up, I will actually murder you.” He said, exasperated. “I’d say you’d be bored as all get out, but I can’t sell myself short like that. This pretty face can’t get me everywhere.” He assured her with a self-congratulatory wink before he tucked back into his glass.

“You don’t think I can come up with a number on the fly?“ He asked, making eye contact with the bartender briefly before looking back at her. “& don’t they just call it Night Mass? & I believe it starts at 7:30. You’re welcome to join me if you don’t think you’ll catch fire upon entering the church.“ He said, grin stretched wide. His expression, however, faltered as Cass hit him with a question. He glowered at her briefly, chewing on something nonexistent in the back of his mouth. “Does it need to be? Business that bad? Cass, if you need a meal I know where I can get you a couple of cans of cat food for like two bucks. The wet stuff. Only the best for NOLA’s reigning Psychic Queen.“ He pandered as his second bourbon arrived even before he’d finished his first. “You gonna drink that or you just gonna keep playing with the straw?” He asked, downing the remainder of his own original glass after a brief nod to the one in Cass’ hand.

❝I think you know exactly when the soup kitchen opens, and you’re not gonna convince me otherwise.❞ Truthfully, she liked the idea that PJ was out volunteering while she was swindling people out of their money with vague promises and honeyed words. At least one of them was racking up enough karma to get into heaven, and some part of her hoped that goodness would eventually rub off. ❝And I’m not canceling my tour! I paid good money for those tickets, dammit-- -❞ Her hand slammed onto the bar for dramatic effect, garnering minimal attention from nearby people, ❝-- - and I want to see New Orleans as God intended! Through the eyes of PJ Bogden, historian, and entertainer.❞

She left herself wide open for a comment about her financial situation, but that didn’t deter Cassandra in the slightest. Perhaps it was because she knew her last name was worth more than the entire soup kitchen and anything he owned, or maybe it was because she just didn’t give a fuck about whatever sarcasm he threw her way. Instead, she shook her head, ❝No, I just know you’re a regular and I wanna see the clubs you hang out in when I’m not around.❞ The offer of cat food did make her shudder, however, ❝I’m good. I’m more of a dog person, anyway.❞ Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her face from scrunching at the thought. Best not to give it too much consideration before she ended up sickened by the thought. With a challenge ahead of her, she pushed the straw to the side and downed the rest of her drink.

❝It’s a marathon, not a sprint. But there! Happy?❞ The empty glass was discarded, pushed away and forgotten as soon as she ordered another drink. If he wanted to rush her, she was more than happy to oblige; the Benjamin he produced earlier was enough proof that they wouldn’t need to be hunting up change at the end of the night. ❝You better have that one finished by the time mine comes, Peej. I was hoping to savor what I bought before you came here and demanded that I drink more. If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk.❞