Lash comms us that he is in position. At the same time, Fonz hobbles back out.
"Found a good spot," he says. "One of those dinky little warehouse offices up on a catwalk. One entrance, so it's defensible, but there's an emergency exit right below it in case we gotta scram-a-lam lickity-split."
Silas frowns at Fonz. "Do you ever speak normal English, or do you have a disability?"
Fonz flips him off. "It's called having a personality, jackass, you should try it sometime. Having you around is like having a pet tree. You've got all the chutzpa of a fencepost."
“Ohhh snap, brother," Saxon says, cackling. "You gonna take that burn?"
"From a Muppet?" Silas responds. "Yes. He's the most unserious person I've ever met. "
"Yeah, well…look at you making up words, Professor Tree Stump. Unserious he says. You're a real chucklehead."
Silas arches an eyebrow. "Unseriousisa word. Which you'd know if you could read anything more complicated thanGreen Eggs and Ham."
"Dr. Suess is a literary genius," Fonz says. "Fox In Socksis a work of art. An' I'll have you know, I have a degree in criminal psychology. Doyou?"
Silas doesn't answer, because he does not, in fact, even have a high school diploma. Not that I'd ever think less of him for it, since neither do I, although I was educated by a private tutor.
"What I thought, dick-for-brains," Fonz mutters.
"Hey, guy?" Saxon says. "Careful which tree you bark up. Jokes are all good and well, and we can all take 'em as good as we give 'em, but you gotta know when to shut your goddamn mouth."
Fonz just laughs. "Yeah, well, when God was puttin’ me together, he forgot that part. Like when you take apart an engine and have a few leftover bolts, you know?"
"You're saying you're short a few bolts?" Saxon asks.
Fonz nods, chuckling self-deprecatingly. "Fuck yes. More than a few. But, look,guy, we all are, yeah? I mean, we all chose careers where people are shooting at us on purpose. No sane motherfucker is gonna do that if he ain't short a few bolts."
Chance laughs at this. "He’s got a point."
"Degree in criminal psychology, my ass," Silas finally mutters. "From where? Cracker Jack University?"
“Took you a while to come up with that one, did it?" Fonz says. "Tip for ya, buddy—gettin’ into a battle of wits when you're unarmed ain’t a good plan. Stick to the rivers and lakes that you're used to, na'mean?"
Saxon slugs his brother in the shoulder. "I think you may be outmatched, here, brother."
Annika cackles. "He just called you a scrub."
Silas frowns. "A what?"
"Scrub? You know, the TLC song?" Annika sighs, shakes her head. "My god. How do you not know this song?"
She taps at her phone for a second, and then holds it up so the song can play for everyone to hear.
When the song ends, Silas is still frowning at Fonz. "I don't see the relevance, and you're still a Muppet."
Fonz just laughs. "Insult-based humor is where I live, son. Level up a bit and come at me again. I'll take it easy on you, promise."
Saxon claps Silas on the shoulder. "Good try, though, man."
Lorenzo watches all this from his place beside me, and then looks at me. “They're an interesting bunch."
I nod. "They are. All these out-sized personalities shouldn't get along, but they do, somehow."
Lorenzo laughs quietly. "I think Silas is still figuring out which things were insults."
"Probably. He's always been the most serious of the Cabot brothers. It's good to see him try, but he should have started with a less deadly opponent, in this case."
