"Probably." Lincoln chimed in. "I'll admit, is a damn shame to see all those folks go, but it's for the better, ya know, like trimming the fat? Anyway, I'm sure we'll make it one way or another." He takes a sip of Thug's wine and stares at the drunken Flynn rotting at the bar. "God, he sure does love his firewater."
"Don't bother him about it," Craig scolded his friend. "Flynn's a tough bastard, and who knows what kinda
**** he's seen. Not to mention he is our commander for a reason."
"Fine, fine." Lincoln sighed as he got up. "Well Imma get some sleep, later man."
"See ya G." Thug called to his friend as he dissappeared into the wave of people.
Craig turned to Viktor. "So, how many times you shoot em?"
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