"Bah," Zenigata says, savoring his whiskey and the warm fuzz that's spreading through his body, dragging constantly-tense muscles down into a slack, buzzing warmth. "Still wasn't sweet, though."
So at least he's right about that, he supposes. He'll take what he can get.
no subject
So at least he's right about that, he supposes. He'll take what he can get.