Somehow, Brandon didn't fully believe him, but he didn't call his bluff. And he didn't know if it was a lie or not anyway, and the last thing he wanted was to claim it to be a lie when it wasn't. "Color me surprised," he said seriously. "Bet shit's awkward now, huh?"
The lack of confidence on his friend's face was something that Brandon was both used to seeing and not used to seeing. "I'm just saying," he muttered. "Shit picks the worst time to happen, doesn't it?" At the little jibe, Brandon nodded seriously and glanced at the doll again. "They don't talk back or develop feelings, so if you ask me there way fucking better than a girlfriend." He snorted.
Emergency floatation device. Brandon barked out a laugh at that. "If you're ever lost at sea she's both a floatation device and something to make the time there a little less lonely," he said seriously, smirking to beat the band.
Putting his finger to his chin as though he was thinking, he shrugged. "I'm sure there was some at Trinity Church back in the city. Maybe there still is." He thought for a few more seconds. "Most of the sexy sweet ones are dead now, aren't they?" he said in sad resignation.
Laughing aloud, Brandon raised his finger in the air, like an idea just struck him. "We should do a zombie Olympics. Bomb throwing will be the banner event. And the 1000 mile runner dash."
Brandon lit his own fuse when Silas did his, hauling back and letting loose when Silas shouted, watching as his own bomb landed in the pit. Almost completely in tandem, the two bombs went off, blowing the pit to about twice its former size. And there was almost no sign of the smasher therein, other than a leg and a giant hand flying out. His mouth hung open. "Okay that was the best fucking thing I have ever seen."