Tegan moaned as he stuck it in, knuckles pale as she gripped the cherry wood.
“Shhh,” Rufus said, dabbing blood off the thread. “Just a few more.”
The needle twanged and she sang a song of pain and woe once more.
Tegan sighed and he adjusted his fogged spectacles.
“What do I owe you?” she asked, inspecting the stitches.
Rufus spat a wad of tobacco into the spitoon. “Stop getting yourself shot up why don’t you?”
They both laughed at the idea.