"Oh, you're not out of the woods yet, Wriggly," Anderson said, but with a faint smile. "Hey, do me a favor and go to my motel room so I can get the crap I left there. Then we don't have to do it after dinner."
"I can buy you more of whatever junk food and crappy alcohol you bought." Anderson gave him a look. Lynn rolled his eyes. "Fine. Where to?"
Anderson rattled off the directions and room number, fished his key out, and handed it over. While Lynn drove off, he dialed the Bureau's number and began the tedious process of filing a report. They were just pulling into the parking lot when he finished and shoved his phone in his pocket.
"Be right back," Lynn said before Anderson could do anything. A couple of minutes later he returned and threw the vodka, schnapps, and remaining snacks in the back seat. "Just how drunk were you planning to get?"
"Just this side of alcohol poisoning," Anderson retorted. "It was that or murder you."