She grumbles. "all right." Then Clem reaches over his prone body, grabs the bottle of beer they'd been in the middle of splitting, and sips it. Finishing, she says, "Garcia and Jones may have beaten a guy to death and we're all going up the river for covering it up. Happy Fourth of July, my life sucks."

She's been told that they actually weren't at fault, but she doesn't dare believe the two of them at this point.