“This whole house stinks. How many people live here?”
“Wow, already? Live a little, Jarrus, it’s Friday!”
Skelly’s palm hit Kanan’s back with a resounding thud, sending Kanan forward into an end table that must have spent the better part of its life in a dumpster.
He caught himself before either he or the table fell, pushing himself off the rotting wood and rounding on his friend.
“What the hell, man?” he demanded, brushing his hands off. “How many have you had?”
Kanan had a good foot on Skelly, and the shorter man shrunk back in his shadow, scratching his neck.
“Not that many,” Skelly mumbled, hiding the six pack he brought behind his back. Kanan didn’t need to see it to know there were only five beers left. "Geez, where’s fun Kanan tonight?”
“Fun Kanan died last night, leaving only the world’s worst hangover in his wake. Fun Kanan is not going to keep you out of trouble or drive you home.
” Aspirin and lots of water had alleviated most of the hangover, but Kanan still didn’t feel right. Unlike Skelly, he couldn’t go three nights in a row.
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