[ Natty Light? Come on, man. He's mostly-sober, not fucking dead inside. Nathan's mouth twists into a line of clear distaste, like Ian's done him a personal wrong by playing messenger to this very dire and important point of order. And, also, is maybe a little incredulous in the way his brows shoot up. Not a cough or splutter in sight, huh? ]
You gonna keep mouthing off while you shoot that?
[ Nathan is a Heineken guy, technically. Standards are probably for people who care a bit more about aforementioned cricket tacos. He lifts a hand from where his arms are folded to emphasize his point, fingers spread, palm laid open. ]
Shitty beer, no coffee. You sure this is better than— [ He makes a gesture to mean: you know, whatever the fuck ended up crushing the world like a tiny blue egg. ]
no subject
You gonna keep mouthing off while you shoot that?
[ Nathan is a Heineken guy, technically. Standards are probably for people who care a bit more about aforementioned cricket tacos. He lifts a hand from where his arms are folded to emphasize his point, fingers spread, palm laid open. ]
Shitty beer, no coffee. You sure this is better than— [ He makes a gesture to mean: you know, whatever the fuck ended up crushing the world like a tiny blue egg. ]