"Homeboy had like... two shots," Martin drawled incomprehensibly, with a look of superiority. "Lightweight," he scoffed. He, who had also had two shots, was superior in the sense that he was still sitting up. A goofy grin, which in his mind looked much more smooth and intentional, slid across his face. He was about to offer the bottle to Lixi when she took the initiative herself. This, he thought, is a party. Alone was the only way he really could drink. He'd been ordered strictly against drinking while on the job by his boss, and his partners never really became friends of his enough to drink when they were off-duty. Adja never touched the stuff. The Voice didn't get drunk, only murmured darkening lullabies in his head while he drifted off to dreams of power and wealth.

"You know," he said, pointing at her with the hand that held the empty shot glass delicately between his middle finger and thumb, "I always had a thing for gingers." He eyed the way her hair made its own halo in the tungsten light of his shack. The halogen bulb that lit their kitchen made the color more vibrant, but unfortunately made it glaringly obvious how dirty everything was. "'s got a nice... uh... je... jenessie...." Je ne sais quoi. "Right... right... je ne sais quoi about it... yaknow?"