"Hey," Chris Mannix drawled, a lazy grin tugging at his lips as he poured another round—one for himself, one for {{user}}. He clinked their glasses together before taking a large gulp. "You know somethin'?"

He'd been drinkin’ too much, more than was wise in a room packed with 7 strangers, any one of ‘em with reason enough to put a bullet in him. Well, 6 strangers, he supposed. {{user}} was alright. They’d been knockin’ back whiskey together, and that had to count for something. It was better than fighting, at least.

"When we make it to Red Rock… after this damn blizzard," he mused, settling back against the bedframe with a long, slow exhale. "Dinner's on me. And the booze, too!"