In truth, there were few people he wanted on his side in a scrape more than his younger sister. She may have only been seventeen, but she was scrappy as hell and the egg-in-a-bag-of-nails comparison he used with Lexie the other day still stood. He loved her and would never change her for the world, but she was an older brother’s nightmare. “It’s a shame I couldn’t actually hit her, y’know? But I know you’ve got me covered. And I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have helping me kick ass and take names. Actually, fuck the names.”
Nick laughed. “That would be saying that the universe was ever in whack, which it’s kinda not. Hasn’t been for ages, either,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Whatever. You know I don’t object to putting it there.” Especially when it came to people he cared about. “I don’t really wanna be a fugitive, but I’ll make an exception for Swafford and his merry band of assholes,” he pointed out.
“That’s good. Because permission or not, I’d totally do it. And I don’t need a baseball bat,” he grinned wryly, glad to be off the topic of Swafford and the Fuckwits. “Okay, maybe not kill. But you really don’t want to see me cringe a lot, do you?” he paused. “Actually, you do, don’t you. I probably shouldn’t have said anything. Damn it.”