Butch Haynes:
You Dottie?
Eileen:
Eileen. Dottie died. Her son runs the place but, uh... he ain't never here.
Butch Haynes:
Never?
Eileen:
He leaves around four. You know, not much traffic after lunch.
Eileen:
[takes a pickle spear from Butch's plate, sucking it and biting it suggestively, then licks her finger]
Eileen:
...If you need me, I'll be right over here.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 08:18
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