“You want my advice? The meter’s turned off—no further charge for this: kiss that money off. Consider it one of life’s hard lessons.” “Well, Bat,” Marshal said over his shoulder as he walked out of the office. “I don’t give up that easy. That fucker’s picked the wrong guy.” “Doc,” Bat called down the stairs as Marshal descended, “if you’re thinking of playing Lone Ranger—don’t! That’s guy’s smarter than you are! A whole lot smarter!” “Fuck you,” Marshal muttered as he walked out of the doorway onto Fillmore.
