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Summary
Silco pulled a pint for a regular, trying to get the foam right but falling just short. Again. He scraped the overflowing head with a wooden beer skimmer that Vander had probably never touched in his life, but that Silco had been using for ever pour this evening.
“Where's the missus tonight?
Silco chuckled, amused that the hound of the underground had been retired so lovingly by those who had named him in the first place.
“Vander's a bit tied up right now. Poor thing was in knots last time I saw him, so I made him take the night off.” Silco explained, the false doting concern in his voice covering up the spark in his good eye as he wiped the spilt beer away.