"Anything to drink, Nutz?" Greg asked, his breasts bouncing rhythmically as he strolled around the table.
"I'll have what you're having, Greg," I responded.
A wide smile formed on Greg's face as he reached for a saucer. "Two glasses of gravy, coming right up."
I agreed, and picked up a tell on Raymer from the outset. When he had a good hand, he'd grab a drumstick in each hand, lift up his shirt, and rub his breasts with chicken. If not, he'd simply eat it.