[ If Nathan Lowell had to miss any sort of beverage that wasn't tar-black coffee, it wouldn't be PBR. A short, irritated look passes to Ian, but then, the same look is fixed onto his beer. So. At least they've clarified that it isn't personal.
[ His expression turns wry, faintly pleased. Nothing quite like bonding over how shitty PBR is after bonding over how their lives are falling apart and they're barely keeping it together and they could have a breakdown at literally any point.
Fuck PBR though. ]
Alright, nailed it, got one in the bag. I think I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead.
[ He declares, straightening up and clapping Nathan on the shoulder as he passes by. ]
I'm gonna go to my couch and pretend like that somehow counts as leaving.
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no subject
Looks like they understand each other well enough. They're at least in the same book if they're not on the same page.
Enough for him to have no reservations about saying: ]
Fuck you, my beer's alright.
[ He won't stretch and say great, but. ]
At least it's not PBR.
no subject
Nathan shrugs, lifts his glass. ]
Got that right.
[ He's going to drink it anyway. ]
no subject
Fuck PBR though. ]
Alright, nailed it, got one in the bag. I think I'm gonna quit while I'm ahead.
[ He declares, straightening up and clapping Nathan on the shoulder as he passes by. ]
I'm gonna go to my couch and pretend like that somehow counts as leaving.