"And I want my girlfriend to bring home a bottle of Jameson Rarest Reserve and a bisexual Russian supermodel," he said. He leaned into the truck, setting aside his heavy helmet. His hand remained, however, quite firmly on the stock of his tactical 12-gauge. "We can't all get what we want, sugar."
His teammates looked down from their hard bench seats, brows arched as they peered out at the exchange. With such an audience to entertain, it proved difficult for Samuel to keep his needling to a professional minimum. "Gotta say, you're at least more pleasant to look at than Dog. Better you than him, though I'd much prefer neither."