Brandon heard his friend's jibe, but didn't respond right off, because he had a climber in his sights, scaling a building on the edge of town to try and get to a pair of looters who were out enjoying the freedom of the evening. Popping the climber's head off with a well-placed shot, Brandon turned and looked at his friend, then rolled his eyes.
"Says the fucker who couldn't hit the broad side of a damn barn with a beach ball." He smirked.
They used to do things like this all the time in the city. Find a roof to chill out on, away from the safehouses, and take the fucking zombies out like it was their job. Felt like it had been too long, for varying reasons. Silas' leg, Brandon's leadership shit... everything stacked up against them for awhile there. But now that Silas was doing better, and all that shit with the killer was over, it seemed like the perfect time to take advantage.
He nodded at his rifle. "Take the head off a climber nine-hundred feet away, then we'll talk about who's got the aim of a three year old." Said with his trademark smirk as he leaned against the wall.
Nodding down at Silas' leg, he shrugged a shoulder and said, "How's that doing, by the way? Probably wasn't such a good idea to do this up here, was it?" He didn't mean it as rudely as it sounded, but rude was more or less Brandon's default sound. He was sure Silas understood that.
"Seems like it's been forever since we've been able to do shit like this, doesn't it?" he asked.