"Fuck is wrong with food stamps?" Butcher asks, disgusted by the thought of people who would be disgusted by such things. If it weren't for government assistance, Butcher wouldn't have had much of a life at all. That doesn't mean he likes it or that is the reason he went into the service. There are people that deserve help and they should be able to fucking get it, but as long as there are billionaires, that will never happen.

Now he feels a little warm and cozy thinking about killing billionaires again.

"Aye, a right side," Butcher agrees, saying nothing of the rest of it. A brief ache smashes him in the ribs when he wonders if this would have been the kind of girl Lenny might have gone for. She's sharp and honest. Maybe she'd have been strong enough to protect him.

Fuck. He drains the last of his drink and wishes it was something stronger.

"Ain't hear no teenage girl get all excited 'bout a bank loan before," he jokes, glancing over sidelong with a friendly smirk.