". . . I think 'intense' is a pretty good word for it." A drink does sound good. Even if there probably isn't enough alcohol in this town to make this all completely settle in. He reached for the bottle of ketchup, shaking it at the corner of his plate in an attempt to get more out than the recalcitrant little glob it first offered. The steak (as it was called; it didn't really match Phoenix's mental picture of a steak) looked good, topped with a peppery, rich-smelling white gravy. But right now, he wanted the base, unhealthy, everyday comfort of french fries.

"I'd be up for a drink, too, but I'm not sure we have beer coupons."