His face was fierce as he gave me a shake, his eyes boring into mine. ‘Dammit Grace, this is not a neighborhood kid pulling pranks we’re talking a...bout, it isn’t an annoying person at the table next to you in a restaurant. It is someone who wants you to die.’ He enunciated each of the last four words carefully as though I were an imbecile. It fueled my already livid temper, but I still didn’t say anything. Yea for me! I just glared as he kept up the lecture. ‘Yes you have a life, and I plan to. There were hugs, tears, and back slaps galore, But Jaime especially appreciated the handshakes and quiet words from men who had 'been there, done that' also. He was moved beyond words when they were presented with a two day getaway to Vegas,a trip meant to be the honeymoon they couldn't afford when they married. He was also stunned when people pressed cards into Beths' hands, a"little something for the trip" they said. He knew they contained money. His people were all working class, and in a. Greg made me so comfortable though, I didn't even care. We had such a lovely dinner, and he was a gentleman the whole time even after all that wine. I wasn't sure I wanted him to be, but it was a nice gesture. We skipped coffee and dessert, and decided to go for a walk after dinner. We walked by the river, and he took my hand as we just talked. After a few minutes, he stopped and turned me towards him. He looked deep into my eyes, put his hand on the back of my head, and gave me a slow deep. Bridget sighed, despairing for her adopted countrymen. Before her was a half-full bottle of Jameson, a chipped ashtray brimming with butts and ash, and a damply empty glass. The red-haired lass fixed the glass’s fault, and stared down balefully with her green eyes at the letter set down before her on the warped wood of the wobbly table. It was then that a cantankerous old fool with a tobacco-stained beard slurred a come-on at her. Bridget flashed a sharp-toothed grimace at the man, who blinked.