"Tony. You don't get to show back up after dropping off the face of the earth for nearly a decade and call me that." There's a certain hardness to his voice, something that was never there before. Like he's drawing lines and if Jack crosses them— well it's not going to end in an hugfest. Not the same as the Tony who, sure, had a motormouth, but always caved to whatever others asked of him Jack knew.
"And if you read my books you'd know they're nubile and lithe. Don't date me with the heaving bosoms, this isn't the 60s." Picking up one of his shots he downs it in an instant. Burns, but he can barely even register it this inebriated. Same for the taste. Which one was it, the gin or the vodka? Who knows. Turning around, glass still in hand, he leans his back against he counter and watches the rest of the room. Loud, crazy, full of energy and no room to think. He could be out in that right now.
Instead he's leaning here. With Jack. "Still haven't said what this business is. Seriously— what are you doing here."
Shitshow is one of the skills on his resume okok
"And if you read my books you'd know they're nubile and lithe. Don't date me with the heaving bosoms, this isn't the 60s." Picking up one of his shots he downs it in an instant. Burns, but he can barely even register it this inebriated. Same for the taste. Which one was it, the gin or the vodka? Who knows. Turning around, glass still in hand, he leans his back against he counter and watches the rest of the room. Loud, crazy, full of energy and no room to think. He could be out in that right now.
Instead he's leaning here. With Jack. "Still haven't said what this business is. Seriously— what are you doing here."