Days watching Japanese game shows and old movies. Sometimes I have your gun in my hand. Sometimes I can.

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"Let's go. " "Aw . . . right. . . no fun . . . " Dorrin retrieves the black staff from the floor along the wall and stands. The serving girl looks at him and the staff and steps back. Pergun fumbles into the battered sheepskin jacket and pushes himself upright. Dorrin steadies the table with his free right hand then guides Pergun to the door. "Wonderful . . . wonderful beer . . . " mumbles Pergun. He extends a hand to steady himself but the hand fails to touch the edge of the door and he staggers into Dorrin. "Come . . . on . . . " Dorrin roughly redirects Pergun. "Where's your horse?" "Got no horse . . . me . . . horse . . . ha. . . shank's mare . . . " One of the two torches outside Kyril's has guttered out and the winds and the snow whip down the street. Dorrin looks toward the dark stable gripping the staff more tightly then forcing his fingers to relax. His boots.
smooch please smooch resourcefulness tuck please resourcefulness please