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“It’s Christmas Eve, the fuck she thinking?”
“It’s Debbie. Honestly, what do you expect?”
“Fuck!” Mickey groaned, “You stay here, comfort Fran and shit. I’ll go bail out your sister.”
“No, Mick, I’ll go,” Ian insisted. “I don’t want you anywhere near a jail. Besides you’ll do a better job of distracting Franny. And I need to have a talk with my sister.”
“Yeah, tell her to pick better girlfriends for one,” Mickey huffed. “Better hurry home, or you’ll catch me kissin’ Santa Clause.”
Ian smirked, “Save your mistletoe kisses for me, Mick. My beard doesn’t get in the way.”
