Silas smirked and arched an eyebrow. “Picture somebody like Mike, but ten times worse. They’re the reason I vowed never to set foot in the South.” When Brandon mocked him, it was Silas’ turn to roll his eyes. He blew out another puff of smoke in his friend’s direction. “That’s ‘cause you’d be too chicken shit to let me get close enough. Hidin’ behind your guns all the damn time.”
He pulled his head back in disbelief. “Don’t even get me started on how butt fuckin’ ugly you are. We’ll be here all night, and I got better shit to do than talk about that.”
“Yeah, but there’ll come a day when there’s no more fuckin’ ammo around and then where will you be? Up Shit Creek without a paddle. Me? I’ll have a paddle and I’ll be killin’ zombies with it.” He gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t forget, I got us outta some pretty tough spots with my explosives.” He paused and frowned when Brandon called him a hipster. “Now that right there’s an insult. I wouldn’t be caught dead actin’ like one of those fuckin’ hipsters.”
Silas scowled up at his friend, puffing the smoke out from around the cigarette propped between his lips. The blowup doll was blonde, which was likely supposed to represent Rae, however… “That’s real thoughtful of you, man. So, which of your sisters is this supposed to be? Or do I get to pick?”