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one was no exception。
〃Gimme that； you clunk；〃 Wharton said。 He spoke as if he were the foreman and I was just another lowly peon。 〃Give it to the Kid。〃
I held it just outside the bars； letting him be the one to reach through。 Doing it the other way around is a recipe for disaster； as any long…time prison screw will tell you。 That was the kind of stuff we thought of without even knowing we were thinking of it … the way we knew not to let the cons call us by our first names； the way we knew that the sound of rapidly jingling keys meant trouble on the block； because it was the sound of a prison guard running and prison guards never run unless there's trouble in the valley。 Stuff Percy Wetmore was never going to get wise to。
Tonight； however； Wharton had no interest in grabbing or choking。 He snatched the tin cup； downed the pop in three long swallows； then voiced a resounding belch。 〃Excellent！〃 he said。
I held my hand out。 〃Cup。〃
He held it for a moment； teasing with his eyes。 〃Suppose I keep it？〃
I shrugged。 〃We'll e in and take it back。 You'll go down to the little room。 And you will have drunk your last R。C。 Unless they serve it down in hell； that is。〃
His smile faded。 〃I don't like jokes about hell； screwtip。〃 He thrust the cup out through the bars。 〃Here。 Take it。〃
I took it。 From behind me； Percy said： 〃Why in God's name did you want to give a lugoon like him a soda…pop？〃
Because it was loaded with enough in
