[He stares for a while. Partly because he's too tired to move anything anymore, the alcohol doing its job against years of building up an incredible tolerance, partly because Pierce can't believe (but he does [it's surprisingly believable]) that this stupid son of a gun didn't offer up a name.
The nerve.
But that's New York for you: all grit and tough skin, and you have to dig to find the charm, and beyond all of that there's no scientific evidence that anyone from there has a brain.] Like... the city?
no subject
The nerve.
But that's New York for you: all grit and tough skin, and you have to dig to find the charm, and beyond all of that there's no scientific evidence that anyone from there has a brain.] Like... the city?