It was me who was Bambi in deer season a couple hours ago, not her.

No. Do I need to spell that?

Does anything we do ever end it?

People here notice when you have gunfights in train stations!

The little brain still wants a rematch with her. The big brain knows I’d have to sleep with one eye open and my back against a wall.

A beautiful night with a beautiful woman is supposed to end that night; you’re not supposed to go work for her afterwards.