"Might who be scared?" said drunk Dingo.

"Might you be," laughed Finnegan. "Might you be, might she be, might the whole frigging lot of them be.. . That's the rub, Ding, that's the whole song of it. Folks are so shit afraid--dammed even if they admit they're afraid."

"Can't see what you mean there, Finn."

"Spooks and spectors, demon electors. Ah hell, Ding. Terror is key. So scared to acknowledge the mistakes. To admit your wrong doing in this."

"Ain't my fault."

"Hell Ding, if the lot of them would just come to terms--"

"Now there's a dame worth poking," said Dingo. He motioned to a very hot girl. Jeans that wore like syrup.

"And then you'd see. The wrath would clear. For a moment, no less."

"I'm not scared." Dingo finished the dark beer he had bought with the money Kind Ken gave him.

"As scared as a leaf in November."