Re: Marty and Clay
Clay had left the leather cutte at home this week. He was just in a solid white tshirt and jeans. He wasn't a shorts man. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was just several decades on a motorcycle. Maybe it was jeans were better for running in since shorts tended to be baggier and wouldn't protect your legs as much from obstacles. Maybe it was all of the above.
"Alright, Deeks it is," he said. "Well since you are in charge of the sparring group that I'm in," whatever that meant. Who the hell called it sparring these days? Who the hell called it sparring in the past half decade? "I wanted to let you know that I suffer from severe arthritis in my hands. It's only an issue when an episode strikes. I use medication to decrease their frequency and mitigate their effects. But it seemed like something you should know. I know I would've told me CO that back in 'Nam." This kid probably wasn't old enough to be born during the Cold War much less Nam. And that irritated him. Having to be trained by a kid. But then he was among the oldest on the base.
"Congratulations, by the way, I wish you and your future wife well," he said with a smile and offering another handshake, this time congratulatory, even while thinking that Savannah was naive beyond belief.