Tuesday night, Charity’s place. Clementine scrubs off in the bathroom while Glory smooths plaster over Faith’s nose. Margaritas and Bob Seger; penny poker.
“There’s still Vaseline in my eyebrows.” Angel grimaces and raises a dime.
“No,” says Glory, “they just feel weird afterward. I’ve made a million of these, they’re perfect for the job. They’ll melt in water.”
“And I won’t have pantyhose over my eyes,” says Charity. “See a quarter, raise a quarter, call.”
Angel drops queens over eights.
“You weren’t bluffing!” Charity stares. “You had to be–”
“Nobody sees through this, sweetie.” Angel grins and rakes in the change.