“Comfortable,” Slevin started, not particularly seeing what his choice of language had to do with it; it all meant the same sodding thing, “is wherever the hell your kit bag is.” Which meant the general consensus in this vehicle was that Teddy needed toughening up, because yes, the old soldier viewed the seats in most of the places he had been as far more comfortable than a lot of the places he had had to sit for a significant portion of his life. He wasn’t being a tosser, that was just the truth of it. As he saw it.
Turning to give Maya’s reflection a semi-thoughtful frown, he eventually decided on a ‘no’, shaking his head rather carelessly. “But if you’re looking to spar, you might have to wait a little once we’ve stopped.” He stretched his arm across his chest, feeling – and, more to the point, hearing – his elbow and shoulder crack purely from remaining too still for too long. “And I think Cat beats Rock in this ca—” There was a beat somewhere between Slevin’s recognition of the song and hearing Teddy’s snort where his expression blanked into a pokerface. Self-preservation was a marvellous thing. His familiar singing along to that goddamn ringtone was actually better, but not to be properly discussed until later. Much later. When Maya was elsewhere.
Unfortunately, that she then killed the music did not register with the cub and he… continued. “Boo. Quit it.”
Boo tilted his head in confusion at Slevin, then chose that opportunity to attempt a second climb right to the top of his funny human head. The first one, at the very beginning of the journey, had ended terribly and with claw marks. The Slevin had been mad. ‘But… but I know all the words to that one!’
“I can always call Ice back. I’m still ‘U Can’t Touch This’, right?” Ringtone wars. Really, Slevin needed to set his own up.