Flying Death
Really fucking good.
“Where’s Hazel tonight anyhow? Not that I’m sure you’d have wanted her here,” Mags asks, talking across to Mona who was sipping a beer.
“Oh! She’s on a date! I can’t tell you how happy I am about it too. Really sweet kid, even brought me roses,” Mona brags, then proceeds to tell Mags all about this … Hector.
Fucking Hector, the tiger?
*We must find her,* Mick snaps, his tone borderline warning. Not leaving room for argument. I’m suddenly fully sober.
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