"You know," Lindsey said, letting a beat of silence follow before he shook his head and turned on the stool to rest his arms on the bar, "I really couldn't care less." He pulled a few bills out of his pocket and tossed them on the scarred wooden surface as the bartender returned with the bottle and refilled the glass. "The only reason I came over is I was sitting here before you came in." He didn't see any reason to move either.
His attention was drawn back to the game, both teams walking onto the court for tip off. It wasn't until after that he realized Booth was talking to him again. Something about his boss and someone else's boss. He didn't bother responding, about to tune him out again when the question came up.
Setting the glass he'd just picked up back on the bar, he looked over at Booth. "I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die," he replied dryly, throwing out the Johnny Cash reference carelessly. "If I did, I wouldn't be telling you. I'm not the stupid self-incriminating perp you hassle in the interrogation room."