'Awful' was a rather apt way to describe it. But there was hardly anything in and about this country that wasn't awful. Watered-down beer and cheap shots were the least of their worries if Thor pointed out everything that was wrong with this piss-poor excuse of an American shithole.
Ignoring the 'no smoking' signs hanging off weathered walls, he responded to the guy next to him while lighting up a fag.
"Well no one comes here for a gourme-"
His sarcasm hung half-finished in the air as he stared and stared and stared at the guy sitting next to him as if he'd just seen a naked transvestite Valkyrie flying past his window.