Friendo

“You got a name, Friendo?” The Howler was crouched in the corner of his cell furthest from me. He was tensed and spidered, and I was certain he would leap for the opposite corner if I tried to get any nearer to him.

“I'm about to close, friend-o. Anything quick I can rustle you... up?” “Uh, one human alcohol beer, please.” “Coming right up. One human alcohol beer it is.”