In some bar

“These are rough times, Jerry, the roughest.” Toilet paper was stuck to his upper lip. I don’t think he noticed.
“That’s original, Bol,” I said back. “Where’d you come up with that?”
“They told me, that’s where.” Bol had an easy way about him, for a top-heavy ex-cowboy from west Nebraska. “They told me and I listened because I’m coy.”
You’re coy. What? “You’re coy?” I said.
“I mean,” he chewed his bottom lip, “I’m savvy. I know what’s up.” He squinted and his eyes disappeared behind a pockmarked visage of leathery wrinkles.
“Then you know you can trust me.”