“You have to give me something, Zeke. Should we not be doing what we’re doing?” The bartender put my fresh drink in front of me. I picked it up and threw it back, setting the glass down as I asked for another refill. He sighed, rubbing his temple. “We’re not going to stop doing what we’re doing.” “That’s not what I asked.” “Fuck, Raven. What do you want me to say? It’s a gray area,” he bit out. He was snapping at me. “A gray area? What the fuck does that mean?” “It means that it’s not wrong, but it’s not right, either.”
