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[ A little huff and a quirk of his lips: "Damn right." Maine's not glad to be here, but it's pretty fucking obvious he's needed.

[ For now, he leaves his hand right where it is. He looks for the next round of shots and, when he doesn't see them, scowls. ]

Should take the bottle.

[ "And leave," by the look he's giving the (admittedly busy) bartender. ]

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