"That's right, you haven't. So you're definitely more racist than me." She raises her eyebrows at him when he watches her stash the booze. Like hell is she going to let it leave her personage. "What, you want me to put it in my bra? I'll find a belt. I'll make a belt. Who cares?"

She takes a moment to consider that - by now the gin is starting to slow how quickly her gears are turning just a little - and then figures hey, that's like, ten percent nicer than she'd be in his position, so she shouldn't complain. She'd probably fuck him or anyone else over for less. She'd fuck her twin over for less and they shared a womb.

"Well, that just makes you an asshole, because I wouldn't feed you to a monster to get me home." Fuck her folks back home. "I've got to admit, though, I'd feed you to a monster if it was funny. Just so we're all on the same page."

He said he didn't have to trust her to hang; the feeling is mutual. Dee trusts no one and appreciates the hang.