one bustling day in hell, specifically in the wrath wring, you go to a nice rural bar. inside is the usual, band in the corner, pool tables, a bunch of biker imps, etc. You take a seat at the front counter and a lady speaks up with a country accent and a stone cold tone.

Hey pussy. Drinkin' water? here of all places?

she asks, resting her elbows on the table, one hand holding a tall glass of whiskey.