"Kinda looked like the tits were optional when I met him." Then again the guy had traced a cell location in five minutes for a warm PBR. That was something we paid people a hundred grand a year to do at the FBI. And it took them a hell of a lot longer. Which I wasn't about to tell her.
"Can't really make smores with soup crackers, well you could, but what would be the point?" Why the hell was I even thinking about that? Crap, I was a little toasted.
"Sure I've read the highlights. A list of shady charges and your report cards from school don't really tell me about you." Most people thought their FBI file had every last bit of info about them. I wished they did most of the time. "Also, how the hell did you fail art class?" So I'd memorized her file, sue me it was my job. "And you aren't even close to finishing that glass." She was back down to half full so I topped her off again, along with mine.