There's plenty that's stronger than milk. [ He gestured. ] Nothing I'm going to give you. Alcohol turns cocaine into a poison, multiplies its lethality, and like I said--I like you.
[ He liked him better cooperating, with his hand cuffed to the rail and his ass in the opposite seat. Politely he leaned forward, picking up the second glass and offering it to Ray.
It had actually been the capofamiglia who'd pointed him toward buttermilk; an early gaff on Ray's behalf, but which he'd covered for quickly enough. It had been a week after he'd started augmenting his coping ability with drugs that he'd been brought the glass of buttermilk by instruction. He'd waved it away, and gotten a dirty look for doing so. Look, if it's between your buttermilk habit and another year long battle with bronchitis, I know which I'd prefer, the boss had snapped, and Ray had hightailed it into drinking buttermilk whenever possible. At the very least it kept him away from alcohol for the aforementioned reasons.
As habits went, it wasn't the worst one he'd picked up. It sharpened his mind when he had to turn it to all the maths. Maths; nobody had told him that filing his tax returns was all the practice he was going to get before the FBI made him the bookman for the mob. Then it had been his job to make those numbers vanish, but vanish legitimately. Hell, without the cocaine he'd be dead already. They'd have sussed out he was fraud months ago.
But here he was, alive and well, and maybe a little raw around the edges, but he'd very quickly picked up the mantra that he'd do whatever it took to live through this experience. The deeper he got, the more he betrayed of his own moral values, the more important it became that something come of it.
It was part of why he'd been so pissed off when Fraser showed up here. Here he was risking his life... ]
What's it matter to you, this friend of yours? He owe you money or something? [ Please explain it, Ray, because he had no idea how to. Fraser was infuriating, and this was a big risk to take, and Ray knew sure enough that he'd be doing the same thing were he in this guy's place.
no subject
[ He liked him better cooperating, with his hand cuffed to the rail and his ass in the opposite seat. Politely he leaned forward, picking up the second glass and offering it to Ray.
It had actually been the capofamiglia who'd pointed him toward buttermilk; an early gaff on Ray's behalf, but which he'd covered for quickly enough. It had been a week after he'd started augmenting his coping ability with drugs that he'd been brought the glass of buttermilk by instruction. He'd waved it away, and gotten a dirty look for doing so. Look, if it's between your buttermilk habit and another year long battle with bronchitis, I know which I'd prefer, the boss had snapped, and Ray had hightailed it into drinking buttermilk whenever possible. At the very least it kept him away from alcohol for the aforementioned reasons.
As habits went, it wasn't the worst one he'd picked up. It sharpened his mind when he had to turn it to all the maths. Maths; nobody had told him that filing his tax returns was all the practice he was going to get before the FBI made him the bookman for the mob. Then it had been his job to make those numbers vanish, but vanish legitimately. Hell, without the cocaine he'd be dead already. They'd have sussed out he was fraud months ago.
But here he was, alive and well, and maybe a little raw around the edges, but he'd very quickly picked up the mantra that he'd do whatever it took to live through this experience. The deeper he got, the more he betrayed of his own moral values, the more important it became that something come of it.
It was part of why he'd been so pissed off when Fraser showed up here. Here he was risking his life... ]
What's it matter to you, this friend of yours? He owe you money or something? [ Please explain it, Ray, because he had no idea how to. Fraser was infuriating, and this was a big risk to take, and Ray knew sure enough that he'd be doing the same thing were he in this guy's place.
As he had been, in fact, several times before.
So why the hell did they do it? ]