“It’s been passed down from generation to generation in my family. My great-great grandmother made it through World War II with it!”
“And now you’re brother’s giving it to his fiancée.”
“Who is the fucking worst.”
“And you’re sure it’s not a fake?”
Lips curled into a smile as bourbon was raised to them. “It will be soon.”
The two sat beneath a single light in a lonely booth in a lonely bar and planned the liberation of an heirloom.