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Summary
"It ain't true." The lanky looking man next to him said, whose face was about a palm's distance away from him. "Y'know. What she said. 's your own bin. They ain't sleepin' in it."
"Excuse me." It was abrupt and definitely questionable in terms of manners, but Reynauld had enough. Tonight was already packed with unpleasant excitement, he wasn't going to stoop as low as allowing himself a pub therapy after the previous spectacle. He counted the exact amount of cash and set his glass over it. That ought to be clear enough.
Now, the man finally got it. He had the decency to raise his glass as a kind of acknowledgement. Reynauld nodded at him with polite disdain and walked out without looking back.
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Bookmark Notes:
Chap 79