Grimes wasn’t a snuggly dog and, as Griff had noticed, he didn’t seem to play well with others. But he didn’t make a threatening move towards Teagan, simply sniffed, sniffed again and then sat back down by the side of Griff’s chair. It was one of those moments where Griff had to once again question what was up with the strange animal and why it had taken such an odd liking to him. Not that he was really complaining as it had proven very useful to have Grimes around.
He remembered Teagan’s warning about some of the girls in the area and figured that being kicked out probably wasn’t a bad thing. Bordered on smart especially considering some of the looks he’d been getting walking through camp.
There was a lot of Spanish in what Marcus said, that and profanities, and Griff’s eye narrowed as he tried to work out what had actually been said. “Did you just say something about masturbate?” he asked with a squint. Maybe he was way off but it sounded like it.
Griff smiled at the idea of Teagan dragging Marcus back to the camp. She hardly seemed like the type to be bringing in strays but clearly that was something Griff had misjudged.
“Honestly,” Griff said, “Would have been screwed if she hadn’t come along. Losing battle and all.”
With Marcus up, Griff begrudgingly gathered that he should follow suit. Actually doing so proved to be that little harder, his body stiffening as movement pulled at his stitches and after a failed attempt he simply just sat back down and looked exasperated. Grimes grunted at his side and sat up to his full height.
“Help an old man up?” he finally sighed, clocking bullet wounds to that list of things that blew about reality. If this was a movie he’d be good to go; had some rest and it would be time to rip his bandages off and run back to the action.