"We'll have one round of shots then go back I think because my old man is fucking wasted."

Mick shoving his father, who was making lewd gestures with his fingers at his son. Bloody hell, the man was a nightmare drunk. Ulrik giggled and noticed Sigurd staring, not knowing what to make of the older man trashed.

"I'm not that drunk, you cheeky lad. Just a bit."

Ivar knew the man was wasted because he could tell a drunk a mile off.