Shay turns, looks back at Vic. His eyes are still locked on that wasted down youth in the doorway. She glances again at the scars on his arms.
“Those are pretty nasty scars you have there.”
He keeps staring at the boy as he says, “I worked as a bouncer at a bar in El Paso. It was a heavy place for knife fights.”
“Couldn’t you have saved yourself a few scars by getting another job?”
“Yeah sure, but I was into self-inflicted wounds at the time.”