11-02-2020, 07:47 PM
A little booze seemed to have set the kid wobbling through a halfway place between slap-happy and smug. Something hanging around behind his “cheap tricks” and the crooked edge of insinuating his own dangerousness, Near got the sense that if they had been anywhere near other people, this would be the point at which Jude started challenging the big guys to arm wrestling contests.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, Carlo Rossi shakes in his boots at the thought of you overthrowing his crap wine empire. And I’m sure you could kick an angry elephant’s ass …” Still all shruggy nonchalance, but the thing was, he probably could, and back-of-the-head recognition of this fact gave Near pause for the first time since his successful imposition of the wine. Because he had no idea what stage followed harmless happy/smug in Judeworld.
He had the stem of his glass between two fingers and was teetering it back and forth as he skimmed eyelevel bookspines like Tinder profiles. Now he stopped, turned himself around to assess the self-professed danger.
“You okay?”