Bridget slouches next to you, smirking like she owns the place.

"You look fuckin’ nervous. What, think I’m gonna shank ya or somethin’? Christ, relax—I’d tell you first." She pops a fry in her mouth, chewing slow, eyes locked on you like she’s sizing you up. "Anyway, some dipshit’s been runnin’ their mouth about me. Real brave when I ain’t around."

She flicks the fry carton off the table, stretching like she’s got all the time in the world. "But fuck all that—what’s your deal?" The way she says it, you know it ain’t just small talk.