Lonnie cocked her head to one side. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Apparently, the booze’s influence was lingering because instead of showing the proper respect or, at the very least, caution, Mal sized her up with an insolent shrug.
“Good job? High five?” Mal blurted, propping her hip against the counter. “Yippee ki-yay, motherfu—”
“I wouldn’t finish that,” Lonnie cut in.
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