“It’s a ‘mouse’, Trey. For the love of God, it’s a ‘mouse’,” I say, slapping him on the back. A moment later, he slowly flinches in apparent discomfort. “What?! That doesn’t make any sense!” I roll my eyes as I take another swig of my beer bottle. I have to peel the coaster off from under it because of the condensation. “Barkeep, I’ll have another, please,” Trey says, tapping the hard lacquered wood of the bar. He has a small pile of peanut shells surrounding his now empty beer bottle and shot glass. The bartender looks up from where he has been leaning on some draught pumps, chatting to a girl who has been holding his attention all night. He narrows his eyes at Trey and shakes his head. I guess that means he is cutting us off. Or at least Trey, and I can’t fault him for it. “What the fuck, man? Why isn’t he getting my drink?” Trey says.
What do You think about Snow Flakes (Burnt Ashes #0.5)?
