The man picked up the tumbler, downed the whiskey in one swallow and slammed the glass on the glistening mahogany. He shuddered. “That did the trick.” His black eyes moved to the bartender, shoving his glass towards him. “But that ain’t Jameson’s, ace. Don’t try that again.”
She said, “You bring the poon, we’ll bring the doom.”
She was always down for trouble.
Always in some kind of it.