<div style="text-align: left"><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">Sometimes I think I should have picked a different line of work.</span></i>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: center">"<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a9a9a9">Thass all in the past now, inunit?</span>" Neil exclaimed, despite his age he was still a larger man than Trenton. Yet he was almost hanging off the younger gangster as he spoke, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a9a9a9">No pointin' stewing in an empty pot!</span>" His already thick accent was made a bit more difficult by the mild slur that started to creep into his voice. Neil was still one that could drink most men under the table, so the amount of alcohol he must have already consumed to be this affected already must have been astounding, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#a9a9a9">Ah, ye mention me lass is a bit off a 'hard-ass' eh? Are ye speaking strictly from a metaphorical perspective?</span>" He nudged Trenton and laughed again. He had a roaring bellow of a laugh, loud and genuine.<br/>
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She winced as he told her about what he had been going through. She had been trying to deaden the pain with work. It staved off the sorrow while she was busy, but she knew how he felt more than anyone. She had been very close to her uncle, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c71585">I'm sorry...</span>" She said again, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c71585">Come on, this <i>is</i> a party, after all! Try and have some fun, won't you?</span>" Leaning forward with an elbow on the table and her head in one gloved hand, the other hand resting on the tabletop. Looking beside her she saw her the drink Trent had left her and slid it over to Damian, offering it to him, "<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c71585">Go on, We should enjoy our lives before they end, right?</span>"<br/>
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</div></div><br/><div style="text-align: right"><i><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff0000">But then I'd just be lying to myself.</span></i>​</div>