Ean gaped, momentarily speechless from outrage.
But only momentarily.
You’ve tormented me for years, he growled. You invade my home, extort money out of me, beat me up for sport, steal my stuff and now you’re threatening my life. He glared at The Gang in impotent fury. I wouldn’t give you a drink if it would kill you.
For a moment, The Gang stared back at him in shocked silence.
You are a crappy host, Little finally said.
With crappier survival instincts, Big added and Ean laughed nervously.
You know, you’re right, E said. Where are my manners? Please: disregard all that stuff I said about killing you. I’d like to change it to: ‘I think there’s some beer in the fridge,‘ instead.