Mendez with his rifle, trying to find a shot in the mess. I didn't know how they did business. Okay, match and not have food stains on them. I said what I was thinking, which I'd almost broken myself of.
Worry how? I asked. When he came back through the door, he had a piece of paper in his hand. There was something almost unfriendly in the way he finished that sentence. He gave me a real smile this time, with enough humor to drive out the blankness in his eyes.
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