The whiskey sloshed over the side of the glass as he slammed it on the table. "Be quiet," he muttered to the voices in his head. "I'm quicker than you are, and I can kick your ass."
He picked up the fork from his place setting, turning it around in his hands. On the TV in front of him, a quiz show was blasting out noises.
"What are you still doing here?" thundered a voice behind him. He didn't need to turn around to confirm Quinn's presence. The construction worker was loud, obnoxious, and quick to fight.
"I'm waiting out the storm," he muttered in response. "Don't want to get my hair wet."
"What a load of crap," snarled Quinn. "You're bald, you withering idiot."
He looked up as Quinn slumped into the seat across from him. As the bartender dropped some ice from tongs in a glass on the bar, he shook his head resignedly.
"Leave me alone, Quinn," he sighed.
"You need to deal with this," said Quinn. "You can't keep hiding because she is gone."
"It's none of your business, moron," he replied. "It's my problem to deal with, not yours."
"She was my sister, you jerk," Quinn snapped. "I knew her much longer than you did."
"She was my wife!" he screamed. "MY WIFE!"
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