Booth snapped his fingers. "Damn, all out of those," he replied, making a face. "I guess I'll just have to piss them off." That he was no stranger to. Sometimes he actually enjoyed it.
"That's...good thinking." Booth sniffed at the hem of his t-shirt. Despite the night in the motel from the depths of hell, he was still decent smelling clotheswise. Maybe a few new t-shirts and a couple pairs of jeans because buying more than that would indicate that little voice in his head was telling him he was stuck in his current situation and he really, really didn't want that.
"No, I can't see myself ever doing that. I've always thought they were kind of ridiculous," he said, crossing his arms over his chest as they walked, "and whiny. I had a girlfriend who liked those Anne Rice movies. I think I was asleep fifteen minutes in."
He started laughing. "Well, you know those mafia bosses. All fire in the board room and wet noodle in the bedroom," he stated, shrugging. "It's his loss." It felt nice to just joke around, which he could do with the crew back home, but his sense of humor was sometimes lost on them. Which sucked.
"You have travelled," he murmured. "Well, I'm kind of hoping I get back before I need to start purchasing electronic equipment."