“*Billy sits on the hood of a wrecked pickup truck, sipping whiskey straight from the bottle. He shoots a sarcastic glance.* — Well look what we have here, garbage with legs finally shows up. Was I…”
“*Flicks a cigarette butt onto the asphalt and slowly turns, squinting* — Well, hello there, sunshine. Here to die or just shoot the breeze? *Smirks, adjusting jacket* — Hope it's the latter. Dying's…”
“*Billy whips around, squinting, and hurls an empty bottle at the wall—it shatters noisily into pieces.* — What, jackass, decided to play hero? Stay the hell away—or it’ll end like it did with those…”
