Re: Campbells.
Russ was getting used to people who looked like shit or like they wanted to cry throwing themselves at him like he was a fucking life-line instead of a deadbeat car mechanic with poor life choices. That Ford had actually wept, he chalked up to the kid looking like hell and to too much time with dead people, and the shirt currently covered in Ford's snot had seen worse.
Several months without his kid brother to mime out words and he understood fine. He shook his head at the 'shower' gesture, "No," he said, and then at the clear as hell gesture that summed up Ford's old door, he said, "No!" again, hard and clear. "Nothing dead. Just a high school." This was not, in Russ's estimation, all that much better than the dead, but it was better.
"If you come with me, I can get that shower before I go pick up Nathan and get him back to Rina," Russ's cunning was not especially cunning. It was limited to poker-games and getting smart women to make terrible decisions. Now he smiled persuasively at his brother, "Come on, kid. I smell fucking terrible."