We don't have to invite pity. We can just tell it to beat it at the door.

[ Easier said than done, but still, Cash imagines that they can find all kinds of things to talk about that don't fringe on pity. They're already dragged down enough as it is. He has another gulp from his glass, trying to imagine what this particular booze was made out of. Something unpleasant, he has to imagine. ]

I do miss actual bars, [ he admits. ] Not that the bar we have is bad, but the idea of being able to order whatever you want sounds pretty great.