That dickslit's voice was like a bucket of dirty syringes scraped against a blackboard. He waited until they were gone, biting his tongue until the noise disappeared completely before snapping, "Night of the Living Dead: Fucking Felix Edition?! Are you shitting me?"

Because yeah, there was one thing worse than living Felix. Who knew?

Mission. Back to the mission. Tucker was more than happy to let York lead, something that a few years under Wash and a real war helped make possible with less attitude than normal. Plus-- "You know this place, don't you?" Which was more than what Tucker had going for him right now, as lost and confused as he was. Everything in him screamed to turn on his sword, and how he kept that feeling at bay, he wasn't sure.

"What the hell happened here?"