Pushing his lips out in a poutish-smile, Brandon nodded and shrugged. "Hey, if people are gonna accuse me of murdering a bunch of people, I'm damn well gonna make sure they don't forget that it was more than one person I supposedly killed!" he said, noticing that a woman on the other side of the room was giving him a terrified look and making a face at her. His usual smarts were out the window.
Rory talked while he drank and he had all he could do not to bust out laughing—might have had a little to do with why about a third of the contents were trailing down his neck and soaking his shirt, but he didn't care. "Shit, I'd love that drinking game, you fucking kidding me?" he asked after he'd smacked his mug on the table. "Be smashed within fifteen minutes!"
Even drunk, Brandon got the meaning behind what Rory was saying and it made him smile. "Good. Glad someone does." Doubting him was common enough. His own sister sometimes doubted him, as did half the people on his security squad. It was good to know that someone, other than Silas and Mike, had his back through whatever. "'Sides, you wouldn't be a very good sidekick if you doubted me, would you?" he asked, lightening the mood up again.
He watched with a little grin as she finished her drink, then teased him. "Hey. Serial killers don't have to be neat, okay?" And the one they were dealing with was definitely not neat. "What if I'm a serial killer with a love for a good old mess every now and again?"