INT. - KINSEY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Gerri upended the bottle of beer, the sides of the glass still cold, setting it aside in favor of the fresh one Kinsey handed to her with a grin. The first beer happily in her belly, the detective exhaled a long, slow sigh, forcing herself to sip the beginnings of the second.
She guessed she should be grateful she really didn't get drunk anymore. The taste was like heaven, still, but the buzz long gone, no matter how much she drank. A side effect of the bheast race, maybe? Gerri didn't care to ask.
So much for sipping. By the time Kinsey took her seat at the table in her small dining room, Gerri's beer had mostly migrated into her. She waved off her friend's attempt to get her another, rising herself to the smell of hot, fresh lasagna the anthropologist
