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Coming Down

Angst was writing her name in pink nail polish on the barrel of the uzi. "You don't mind? Do you need cash?" 

Tatter patted the pockets of her baggy coat, checking for change. "I'm good. Triple-triple for you right? And what does Max take?"

"Just black." She smirked. "It's a macho-thing, I guess. Hardcore action-hero noir-ninja-whatever."

Tatter grinned, then her eyes softened. "Is he okay though?" She glanced to the door of the bedroom.

Angst nodded. "He gets sick like this sometimes, before a shift."