Sal's capable of a great many terrible deeds. But refusing a drink? Not fucking happening; and honestly, with the way everything seems to want to go to shit these days, she'll gladly consider this a boon.

Taking a seat on the bench beside him, she decides that a small break from all of this flying around and searching for a fight is well-deserved. She accepts the bottle, taking a long pull before handing it back over. "Gin, huh? Could've been whiskey, but I'll allow it." She gives him a small grin and a wave of mock-permission. At ease, good citizen.

"No, it seems like enough of those dramatic do-gooder types have better things to do somewhere else. Don't know where the fuck that leaves the rest of us, really."

As if on cosmic cue, the faint klaxon of car alarm starts to ring out distantly behind them.