"Perfect," Danny agreed and held his glass out to tap against hers. In his usual custom that he'd picked up from Mexico, he then tapped his own glass down against the coffee table before shooting the contents back. The ice rattled and felt cold against his upper lip, but the whiskey warmed on its way down his throat.
Sighing with satisfaction, Danny grinned at Chrys and retrieved the whiskey bottle. It was a High West rye whiskey, one of his favorites. "Alright. Time to get plastered."