“I’m going to get you another cold one,” the police officer said.
I wasn’t about to say no. The decor could best be described as office-space drab; the massive flat-screen TV wasn’t turned on to provide any mindless distraction; and the bar snacks, well, let’s just say tiny bags of Pirate Booty don’t do much after your second drink in 20 minutes.
So yeah, another beer sounded just fine. It was probably better than the alternatives, anyhow. There were a few bottles of generic vodka, whiskey, and tequila, some mixers, and… Fireball…