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“Bowman used to laugh at me whenever I drank hard liquor. He’d laugh and then he’d lean in like this—” she places her mouth close to the shell of Raylan’s ear and trails a hand up his thigh, “—and he’d say, ‘You doing okay, baby? Don’t you dare throw up.’” She laughs. She wants to get wasted.
Raylan doesn’t look half as amused. “I’m sorry—”
“Oh, shut up. I wish y’all would stop feeling so fucking sorry.”