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"That is complete bullshit, Mort," Silas said. He would kill Mort right here and now if he wasn't afraid he’d fall over if he tried to stand. He was trashed even by his standards. He was already on his second bottle of bourbon. The liquid helped heal his aching wounds, not that he had many wounds left. It had been almost twenty-four hours since their battle at the top of the building, and he was almost fully healed. But he liked any excuse to drink. Even not having an excuse was a good excuse in his book.
The bar was more packed than usual. The smell of stale liquor mixing with stale sweat filled the room almost made him want to put the bottle down and go home. Almost. The band was between sets and he couldn't disappoint the fans by bailing on them. Although, looking throug
