Bishop just gave a nod as a fond smile toyed at the edges of his mouth. Hazel wasn’t just a woman from the Greenbelt, she was Harlan born and raised and while many might not know what that meant -- Bishop did and it drove home Vic’s words that much more. “Your feeling ain’t wrong,” he remarked, giving another nod at the idea that it was okay to overthink things. Again, while he had probably known that very thing deep down, it didn’t hurt to have it confirmed that in this particular situation thinking the shit out of something was better than not thinking about it at all.
The conversation shifted and Bishop couldn’t deny he was glad for the change. Talking his feelings to death wasn’t his style, never had been. Vic had given his assurances and Bishop was happy to take them for what they were and move on. “Definitely didn’t think this would be where things ended up back when I took on a patch,” Back when it had all begun it hadn’t been more than twenty guys and they hadn’t been doing much more than getting underneath the Ghouls and Olinger’s skin. “Fuck, we ain’t had a very good screening process at all. Makes you wonder if that’s something we should think about harder?”
He hated the fact that they might spend the rest of their days second guessing any new face. But the men who had went rogue had once been ones they held up as brothers, so what did that say about their judgment? “Or just hope and pray that we ain’t making hasty decisions and putting patches on men who ain’t willing to live the way we want to live now,” Bishop paused. “You ever wonder if the only people you can trust now sit at the table with us?”