“Did you have any last words, Dresden, or should I just choke you now?” “Mac!” I called, raising a hand. “Two pale!” She fixed me with a steady look and said, “Don’t think you can buy your way out of this with good beer.” “I don’t,” I said, rising. “I’m buying my way out of it with really, really good beer.” I walked over to the bar as Mac set two bottles of his microbrewed liquid nirvana down and took off the caps with a deft twist of his hand, disdaining a bottle opener. I winked at him and picked up both bottles, then sauntered back over to Murphy. I gave her a bottle, took mine, and we
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