ain't this what brothers are supposed to do? Who: Sarge and Rodeo What: Ain't no party like a Montgomery party. When: April 13, 2011 Where: Rodeo's room Warning: Bad men using bad language; excessive country rawhide. Status: In Progress
The taste of whiskey on his tongue and the smell of gunpowder in the room is nearly enough to make him feel like he's home. Sarge is there on the other side of the table, working on the same thing Rodeo is-- swaging their own ammunition with a pair of bullet presses. The mission to clean out the garage nearly cleaned them of their munitions, and though the process of making their own bullets is tedious, it's too risky to go out in search of good ammo with such a low stock.
But at least they don't have to be sober while they do it.
Rodeo slides the bottle across the table towards Sarge, his gut warm with liquor and his head tipsy enough to forget some of his troubles. Well, all of them save for a certain red-headed bit of trouble.
"You wanna know how I got this shit?" he asks Sarge, nodding towards the whiskey. "It was some fellas a ward over who had it. I bought it off of 'em for a bunch of Ramen noodle flavor packets. I told 'em they were condoms."