Hit me with your best shot. If I don't like it, I can always kill you.

[There's a glint to Leonard's eyes, sharp and bright like a razor. He's content to let the statement hang heavy in the air as he finishes the rest of his drink. It's up to Jim to decide if he's joking.

He unpins Jim with his gaze long enough to wave over the bald and tattooed bartender with a twirl of his gloved fingers.]

Hey Popeye, I'll have a Stone Cold Larceny. Two of them. His tab.