"Fuck, seriously?" Brandon laughed a little bit. "Didn't know they got worse than Mike." Meant in the same way that he was fucking with Silas right now, obviously. "Probably a good thing they blew themselves up then, you're right about that." Hiding behind his gun. Brandon snorted a laugh at that and shrugged. "That or I'm just sane and a good fucking shot." A good shot? Absolutely. Sane... was the question of the hour.
Snorting a laugh, Brandon arched an eyebrow. "And then he indirectly insults his own fucking grandmother," he pointed at Silas and shrugged a shoulder. "When was the last time you got laid, pal?" Not that Brandon could really talk, lately.
Brandon snorted a laugh. "That's why I know how to make ammo, bro. Even if I run out, I could probably make something ten times better than these piddly-ass bullets." He paused. "Or... Lilah could, anyway. Me, probably not so much."
Nodding his head grudgingly when Silas essentially forced him to admit that he'd saved their asses too, Brandon sighed. "Maybe once or twice." Bravado refused to allow him to admit to more than that, though there definitely were more. Brandon smirked. "Hey. I'm only calling you a hipster because you're fucking acting like one. Maybe everyone uses a fucking gun because it's practical. More practical than having to get all up in a zombie's fucking face to kill it." This was their usual banter. And neither of them ever won.
The jibe about his sisters made Brandon's eyes narrow, but after a few seconds spent thinking of the right comeback, he decided upon, "I dunno. It depends on if you want Kori to stab your eyes out with her sewing needles, Lilah to chemically castrate you like she threatened to do to that one guy, or Leah to straight up fucking eviscerate you."