“I… am a man… of few words.” Bill’s much-belated speech meandered deliciously over his thick southern accent, in slow, deadly tones. Even an accomplished dullard could see Bill wasn’t in a good mood, from the decidedly intolerant frown on his otherwise stone-carved face.

It was all the more pointed to Sookie, who knew that Bill was at the end of his rope, and would likely rip the man’s heart out before being forced to speak again. She thought she’d better interject.

“Why, I do believe I have the permit, Officer. Do let me check the glove box.”

Bill gave a low growl, turned to watch her, and then seemed to relax a little. No massacre today then, hopefully, she thought. She found the document, and handed it to the police officer. He studied the pages for what seemed like a decade, flipping back and forth aimlessly.

“Alright ma’m, thank you.” He looked back to Bill, who was driving. "Sir, You’d best on your way now. "

Sookie sucked in a gallon of air. “Oh my Lord. Now you’ve done it.”