"All the time. It's like living in a barrel of monkeys," one Jamie sighed, dropping his face into his hand.
"Hey, that's hurtful," the Jamie who was still seated glared at Logan, then over at Prime. "Everyone's out to get us," he moped at the dupe who was pouring fresh coffee into each cup. "Heeeey, where's the cream?"
"Every time you whine, God kills a kitten." "I thought we didn't believe in God."
"See?" Prime chuckled helplessly as he looked across at Logan. "It's hell on earth." Jamie cleared his throat, smoothed down his crumpled mess of a shirt and dragged himself up, then half stumbled over to sit next to Logan. If hit weren't for his pounding head telling him better, he would have thought he was still drunk. And yes, he did sit down right beside Logan. Call it hangover balls, but he felt the courage to settle in beside him for now. "So how about you? How'd you spend your new years? Tear apart a bar or ten?" Oh yes, Jamie heard rumors. It was his job to hear them, after all. Wisdom had taught him well.