Sarcasm was, he thought, as much a coping strategy as it had ever been when he'd been in the Navy. You wouldn't meet a more sarcastic bunch of smartasses than men in the middle of a war. No one stayed earnest very long.
"I'll get the drop cloths, sweetheart," Ollie said before he paused and looked over at Ty with a steady look that held just a faint trace of tired amusement. "Is it that you could have taken care of him or is it that I shot him so you didn't have to?" He asked. "Patrick isn't the first man I've shot in the head."
Of course, the others had been soldiers in the Zagros mountains, men who might have been hunting down a crashed American pilot but who, largely, weren't complete fucking nutcases about to go on a killing spree.
"Which isn't to say that I don't want a shot of vodka as soon as we're done here," he said as he disappeared backstage. "Because Jesus Fucking Christ, if any night deserves that, it's this one."
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"I'll get the drop cloths, sweetheart," Ollie said before he paused and looked over at Ty with a steady look that held just a faint trace of tired amusement. "Is it that you could have taken care of him or is it that I shot him so you didn't have to?" He asked. "Patrick isn't the first man I've shot in the head."
Of course, the others had been soldiers in the Zagros mountains, men who might have been hunting down a crashed American pilot but who, largely, weren't complete fucking nutcases about to go on a killing spree.
"Which isn't to say that I don't want a shot of vodka as soon as we're done here," he said as he disappeared backstage. "Because Jesus Fucking Christ, if any night deserves that, it's this one."