“You were those cops,” Silas muttered under his breath, more to himself than to them. He’d had run-ins like exactly the one that Brandon recalled; though he and his friends hadn’t ever messed with girls. They had at least enough integrity to steer clear of that. It was more petty theft in early high school, and other things when he got older. He snorted at the comment about the girl they’d saved bee-lining for Stone.
“It’s that pretty face of his,” he interjected before he downed the rest of his drink. He was almost done with his cigarette too. If he could get away with it he’d light another. He’d been about to open his mouth to say something else when Regan finally took up the challenge and marched over to the teenagers. He watched the kids faces carefully, snorting at the way their eyes widened at one point, and laughing when the bartender headed that way then thought better of it.
“Now see, didn’t that make you feel better?” he asked when Regan settled again, “You got to scare the shit out of people and remember how you did that for a paycheck.” Something he couldn’t relate to, but Stone and Jones seemed to have liked their jobs well enough.
He took that opportunity to dig for his cigarettes again, having finished the one he had, and refill his glass. “You earned the booze too,” he added as an after thought. “Definitely wouldn’t have wanted to run into you on duty.”