It said a lot of things about David that he'd just faced down a freaking swimmer, one of the things that had pulled his brother's best friend into the water and nearly drowned her, and that terrified him less than Patterson did. A lot of things. And none of them were good. But it was true enough. David's heart jackhammered in his chest as he turned to look over his shoulder, catching sight of the swimmer that was just now getting to its feet. Who knew how adept those things were on land. It was the first time David had even encountered one face-to-mangled-face, and all he could do was turn around and look back at Patterson stupidly. Which, of course, he was fully aware was just adding fuel to the fire that was his hatred. Swallowing thickly, David waited for the onslaught of curses.
But they didn't come.
An eyebrow arched, David answered the first question very carefully. "I wasn't looking for anything. Not really," he explained. "I was just thinking," he muttered, not wanting to mention the fact that he'd essentially been daydreaming about the old days. Patterson saw him as weak. Admitting what he'd been thinking about would be fueling the fire, and he wasn't sure if he was willing to give him that much ammo. Not right now. "Look, I'm sorry, I just…" he trailed off.
Patterson was addressing him again, rather than berating him more, and David was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned and looked over his shoulder again, somehow finding his voice and shook his head as if Patterson had asked if he'd seen more than one. "Just the one. That's all," he muttered, swallowing thickly and then clearing his throat. Though where there was one, there was always more. It was just the way they worked.