“Nope,” Gibsie replied for me, reaching for another shot glass. “Not happening. So you can keep on walking, turncoat, because he’s not biting.” “Shag off, Gibs.” Cormac glared down at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.” “Maybe not,” Gibs replied, tossing his drink back. “But I’m sure as hell talking to you.” Shoving his stool back, he jerked to his feet and squared up to Cormac. “Now turn your ass around and take your little girlfriend back to the hole you both crawled out from.”
