Arni raised his glass. “Born together, friends forever.”
“Unfortunately.” Freyja took a mouthful and let the alcohol anesthetize her mouth, then warm her innards.
“I wouldn’t worry about Mal, she’s got the qualities of a survivor,” Arni said.
“Lack of morals, lack of conscience, and a huge sense of entitlement.”
“Sounds like you. Arni.”
“Sounds like us, Free.”
“I’m not the one taking gifts from a drug dealing murderer.”
“Are you going to start about Gunnar?”
“Hey, I’m just telling it like it is.”
Arni swirled the amber liquor then took a large gulp. Freyja followed suit and waited. She loved pissing him off.
“So it’s Freyja the pure, Freyja the righteous? You’re so fucking sanctimonious.”
Ouch. Nasty little bastard. She’d wait for an opening then kill him.
“Did you ever consider that most of us are just trying to get by, have a good time, enjoy a few nice things? Somebody does something nice you accept it. You don’t have to research his past, analyze his motives, refer to some impossibly high, not to mention, antiquated moral standard. You just say thanks.”
“There’s more to life, Arni, you hedonistic little fuck, than getting your rocks off.”
“What else? What else is there?’ Arni lurched off the stool, stumbled and steadied himself on the bar. “I think I spit on you.” He wiped her sweatshirt with a cocktail napkin. “Sorry.”
“Some things are right, some things are wrong. You don’t make it up as you go along.”
“Who decides that, Free?”
“It’s already decided.”
Arni raised his eyebrows, his face flushed. He never could hold his liquor.
“With standards so high, I’m afraid you’re setting yourself up for a lot of hurt and disappointment,” he said.
Wisdom from her twin – what’s the world coming to?
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