The bottle is passed back after only a short swig, Richard more interested in the rhythm of this, the back and forth, than the alcohol itself.
"We could make it." Flippant. They probably could, if they really dug down deep, but it would be more work than putting something together from cat litter and fertilizer. Still: "Might cut this war crap down a little shorter."
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But still, he's game enough to return Richie's sarcasm with a wry smile of his own.
"Knife skills, sword skills, whatever the fuck," is shadowed with medieval bullshit. "You think they have dynamite yet?"
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"We could make it." Flippant. They probably could, if they really dug down deep, but it would be more work than putting something together from cat litter and fertilizer. Still: "Might cut this war crap down a little shorter."