Levi groaned as X repeated his little singsong mantra for about the hundredth time since we’d left Psychos. “Please. For the love of all things holy. Would you pick a different song?” Ah, fuck. That was the absolute worst thing he could have said. I knew what was coming. X warbled loudly and off-key. “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety-nine bottles of beer…”
