Tuck was working on boarding up the windows of his church, wanting to keep them protected from the oncoming storm. He had nails in his mouth and a hammer tucked into his belt as he rounded the church, and sized up the next window.
And then he heard the voice and he spun around, spitting out the nails like a strange sort of nail-breathing dragon. "Fucking- Hermes-" Well shit. Shit. This was the last thing they all needed, shit. "What are you- Surely you don't think you're going to be nailing something in those clothes?" he said, and then he grimaced at his phrasing.