"First of all, you know it was a cardboard cutout of Don Johnson, not the Hoff. If you were really my friend, you wouldn't tell such outrageous lies."
She's plucking at a loose corner of the label on her own beer. Beneath, instead of glass, is a second label in what she thinks is Serbo-Croatian. Sharon smooths the pasted-on label back over the other and casts a casual glance around the bar. "Secondly, I don't know about too old..."
Certainly neither of them seems to have acquired the wisdom they say comes with age. If they had, they would undoubtedly have thought twice about:
1. patronizing this bar; 2. even walking into this bar; 3. being here, in Romania, at all.
"... but I'm starting to think I should have kept the body armor on."
She sips at her own beer as her gaze comes to rest on a lumpy shape in a shadowy corner. A moment's puzzlement and some squinting later, she realizes it's got to be the oldest jukebox she's ever seen. "You think that thing plays any Stones?"
no subject
She's plucking at a loose corner of the label on her own beer. Beneath, instead of glass, is a second label in what she thinks is Serbo-Croatian. Sharon smooths the pasted-on label back over the other and casts a casual glance around the bar. "Secondly, I don't know about too old..."
Certainly neither of them seems to have acquired the wisdom they say comes with age. If they had, they would undoubtedly have thought twice about:
1. patronizing this bar;
2. even walking into this bar;
3. being here, in Romania, at all.
"... but I'm starting to think I should have kept the body armor on."
She sips at her own beer as her gaze comes to rest on a lumpy shape in a shadowy corner. A moment's puzzlement and some squinting later, she realizes it's got to be the oldest jukebox she's ever seen. "You think that thing plays any Stones?"