“Shoot ’em Politely.”

“Hey there, sugar.”

“Holy-! Nightshade, you nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“Aww, sorry Ness. Didn’t mean to scare you. What are you doing down here in the cellar, anyway?”

“I’m hiding.”

“From who?”

“Visitors.”

“Why hide? If someone gets nosy, just…you know…shoot ’em.”

“Shoot ’em?”

“Politely.”

“Shoot ’em politely. That’s your plan?”

“Your dad was with the Irish Mob, Ness, how is it not your plan?”

“No one ever got nosy. Well, not really nosy… My dad takes care of that.”

“…Oh, well. That makes sense. …Do you want a drink?”

“I’m underage.”

You’re Irish.”

“Touche.”

“Well, drinks or no drinks, you can hang out here with me and we can hide.”

“We can play poker, too, if you want. I brought cards.”

“Lookit you! Sneaky.”

“Well… I am Irish.”

“Ha! We can bet bottles and hope Ed doesn’t notice.”

“And we can drink them when I’m actually of age.”

“I wait with the baited breath for the day.”

“Heh… Well, c’mon. Ante up.”

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