Chapter Fifty Seven

"This is great, where'd you find this stuff?"

Glad to be talking about something she liked, she smiled.

"I get it off the internet. None of the local places will carry it. It's imported from England, and yeah, it's pretty darned good. The only thing I like better is their Oatmeal Stout, but I only drink one of those on very special occasions. It packs a wallop and it's just a little heavy. One bottle and you feel like you just ate a meal."

She did like talking about her favorite beer. She watched as Mark took another sip and smiled. Another convert.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mark, where's my manners. Mark Lockhardt, this is Damien; Damien, this is Mark Lockhardt."

She sat back and waited for the two 'men' to size each other up. Mark looked at her like she had lost her mind, but then looked at the wolf sitting at the table eating. Damien stopped eating long enough to look at Mark, swallowed his bite of chicken, and looked him right in the eyes and grunted. He went right back to eating his chicken