“Every time, you wind up here with a gin and tonic. What are you, seventy?”

“It’s a ritual, Morris. I’ll have a beer in a minute.”

“Fine, I’ll have two now…Miss?”

“You and yer shit-eatin grin, every time. Guess we each have our rituals, don’t we?”

“Can’t a guy be proud of a job well done?”

“Hell of a job.”

“Damn straight, and here’s to it. La’chaim!”

“Didn’t you go to Catholic school?”

“Yeah, but they never taught us any cool things to say before downing a drink. An ‘Our Father’ or ‘Hail Mary’ just seems out of place, don’t it?”

“In your case, it probably wouldn’t hurt.”

“Ah, one down, one to…hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin.”

“Nothin?”

“Nothin. Did you read the report?”

“Nah, those things are depressing. Anything good?”

“Never is. I dunno. Guy was hearing voices, apparently, God and the devil or some shit like that.”

“That so?”

“Yeah, that’s so. Poor bastard needed help, needed medicine.”

“Don’t sweat it, hoss. You dosed him alright, 9.7 grams of lead. Cured.”