[ There are layers to what she's saying, and how, but Carver's become aware all over again of how much context he's missing. He feels wrong-footed and awkward in this place, like he's green all over again, and hates it. The lack of control, the mistakes he won't see until it's too late to do more than body him.
Nothing here makes sense. Not a goddamn thing. But this is the job, isn't it?
So endure, son. Chin up.
He stares at her. He flashes his teeth. He doesn't sheath the knife. ]
That bother you?
[ It comes out snide but underneath is a genuine question: what do these people call the line, and how hard will they defend it? ]
no subject
Nothing here makes sense. Not a goddamn thing. But this is the job, isn't it?
So endure, son. Chin up.
He stares at her. He flashes his teeth. He doesn't sheath the knife. ]
That bother you?
[ It comes out snide but underneath is a genuine question: what do these people call the line, and how hard will they defend it? ]