“The next time you come to the Cookie Jar, the coffee’s on me. You could probably bottle that stuff of yours and sell it for rat poison.”

“There's some heinous fuckery goin' on mon.”

“She skinned her hair back into a ponytail, a style she knew was probably too young for her, but she planned to drive with her windows open and she could ditch the elastic band once she got to the l...”

“The next time you come to the Cookie Jar, the coffee’s on me. You could probably bottle that stuff of yours and sell it for rat poison.”