[....but satisfaction in the warm glow of lit coals doesn't last long. Not when he starts to actually feel the ageworn dust caked onto the surface of that bottle where it meets his forearm. Not when the memory of why he'd fought— and won— suddenly decides to flood back in.
This isn't the cheap bottle from the rooftops.
This isn't one of the pilfered no-names from the bar.
And with a whip-quick yank he's pulled the bottle out into the firelight just to get a better look at its label, searching for— ]
2/3
This isn't the cheap bottle from the rooftops.
This isn't one of the pilfered no-names from the bar.
And with a whip-quick yank he's pulled the bottle out into the firelight just to get a better look at its label, searching for— ]