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One of the most anticipated days on base, for every guy there, was mail day. Most of the time it brought good news, updates on the lives of the families. A lot of the time it was child birth announcements, marriage, divorce, even a death in the family. Some days brought packages filled with birthday or holiday gifts, sometimes it was just things the guys requested, but most of the time, no matter who got a package, it was filled with food.
“Shit dude, you got zebra cakes? Gimme one of them.”
“That’s literally like a hundred bucks worth of candy. You won’t miss two pieces.”
“You got like one of every chip imaginable.”
Nothing topped anything homemade, especially anything addressed to Jack.
“Is that a Mama Dalton care package?”
“You’re gonna share right?”
Mac had always snorted at Jack being surrounded by the other guys whenever he got a package. The first time it happened, he thought Jack was gifted something other than just food, not that Mama Dalton’s care packages were just food. Jack always had to bat away grabby hands because of how good it was. He was always more than happy to share with Mac, and after a few times, there were smaller packages inside the main one addressed to him.
Mac didn’t care for mail day like everyone else. It was when he first enlisted that he looked forward to them, Bozer keeping him up to date with things in his life, but the letters were far and few, and after the first year they nearly stopped completely. He didn’t mind too much, knowing Bozer was still in school and working, and preparing for when he moved to take care of the house Harry left him. There were still video calls every once in a while when they both had a few minutes to themselves, but other than that, Mac never really got any sort of mail.
So when he did, it always sparked curiosity from the guys around him. The time he got a care package from Bozer, all of the guys were jealous. There were various dried meats, all seasoned differently from him trying out combinations, baked goods, a few different bandanas, and an assortment of office supplies.
“Jeez man. Where do I go to be on this mailing list?”
“You got beef jerky? Homemade beef jerky? Gotta let me try some.”
He was teased nonstop when he got a letter from Frankie.
“Old buddy from school?”
“Yeah. Double major for mechanical engineering and biology. She made me read her thesis like six times.”
“She? Oooh our boy got his own girl genius.”
He hadn’t gotten anything in the mail in months, not that he really minded because he could easily pick up a pen and paper and write a letter home himself, but he was expectantly surprised when mail day came and his names was called.
“Macgyver.”
Mac sat up on his bunk, book he was rereading set and forgotten as he was handed a package.
“Been a hot second since ya got somethin.” Jack said, leaning on the bunk. “Bozer send ya more jerky? I didn’t get to try the pepper squash one last time.”
Mac examined the package. His last name and base outfit were the only things written on the outer wrapping. Bozer always addressed it with first and last name, and put a return address. It also didn’t look like his hand writing.
“Shit man, you got more jerky? Gimme a sweet and sour one huh?”
He pulled off the wrapping. A somewhat dusty shoe sized box was underneath.
“Hey if you got binder clips, can I get like two? I’ll let you get into my stash.”
Mac lifted the lid, a strange nutty smell hitting his nose, and he went completely still.
“Well? You got the goods or what?”
The smile that was on Jack’s face was gone when Mac went wide eyed. He took a glance inside the box and his heart nearly stopped.
“Come on man, don’t hold out on us. You got connections.”
“Everyone shut the fuck up.” Jack’s voice reverberated against the walls. The place was silent in seconds. “Mac—”
Mac’s eyes glanced to him before settling back on the box in front of him. That one glance gave Jack just enough information on what he was being asked to do.
“Everyone listen up.” It was his sergeant voice, the commending one he used on newbies to freak them out, or on Mac when he was being stubborn. “You’re all going to calmly leave the bunks, and when you do, you’re going to inform every CO you see, tellin them this place needs to be evacuated because one of our boys got a gift and it ain’t from Santa.”
The guys were all silent, slowly understanding the meaning of Jack’s words. They all looked to Mac and the box in front of him. He hadn’t moved.
“No sirens, no loud noises. Just get everyone out. Don’t let none of the boys that are out come back either.”
“Hundred yards.” Mac’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Minimum.”
“You heard the man. Get goin.”
The guys all filed out quickly. Their steps going from a walk to jog as soon as they left.
“You need to evacuate too, Jack.” Mac said, glancing at him.
“If yer stuck here then so am I.” Jack crossed his arms.
“I’m serious. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like this. One wrong move and I could set it off, leveling the whole base for all I know.”
“Tough shit. Ain’t no different than when yer defusin them every other day.”
“Jack—”
“Save it. I ain’t movin until you do. And seein as you can’t really move right now, you tell me everythin you need and I’ll get it for ya.”
Mac took in a deep breath, holding it for a moment before releasing. “Fine.”
***
“I’m the last one besides you two. Martinez and Hayes have got guys sending messages to all the other bases just in case this was supposed to be a coordinated attack.” Joe handed Jack a walkie.
Jack humorlessly snorted. “Just our fuckin luck huh?”
“Probably won’t know anything for a few hours. I know they sent word to halt any and all mail from coming through. Other than that, I dunno.” He turned to Mac. “Be nice if you had that thing done by dinner. I skipped out on lunch and I know the guys that’re out would appreciate a shower.”
Mac’s lips twinged up. He appreciated Joe’s humor, despite how very not funny the whole ordeal was. Everyone had a coping method for the extreme stress of their daily routine.
“Why don’t ya skidaddle so he can get started then?”
“Radio silence from our end until we receive some sort of confirmation. Don’t want sudden noises to lead to accidental detonations. Mac, good luck.” With a final nod, Joe exited the bunks.
Mac waited another few minutes until he started doing anything. “You should’ve gone with him.”
“Sorry, what was that? Coulda sworn ya just said somethin stupid.” Jack was sitting on a bunk across from him.
“You don’t need to be putting your life in danger when there’s an opportunity for you to be safe.”
“Kinda hypocritical comin from the guy who dropped outta one of the best schools to come disarm bombs for a livin.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No? Because the way I see it, you had the opportunity to live a safe, happy life and you decided to throw it all away to come to this god forsaken desert and risk yer life every single time you opened yer eyes. Tell me how that’s not the same.”
“It’s just not, okay?” Mac regretted the bite in his tone. “Look, my reason for being here is no different from anyone else’s.”
“Why did you come here, Mac?”
“To save people. Why’d you stay here?”
“To save you.”
It wasn’t the first time that particular conversation had come up, but it still caught Mac off guard every time.
“I get it kid, I do. Ya got a heart of gold. Ya wanna save everyone ya can, but ya gotta remember that yer apart of everyone. I know it’s easy for you to forget that. So I’m gonna stay right here with ya. Make sure you got someone to save you when you can’t save yerself.”
Mac stared at Jack, the words seeping into his being. It was weird, someone he’s only known a few months outwardly saying how much he cared. Sure, other guys in the squad cared for each other’s well being, if someone got sick or injured, or was just overall having a bad day, but Jack was different.
Jack genuinely cared. When Sanders was miserable with the flu, Jack sat with him, cracking jokes and telling far off stories. When Nico sprained his wrist, Jack helped with a lot of lifting. Manny needed to trade shifts? Jack volunteered.
But anything Mac needed overshadowed everything else. Jack was always right by his side when he was sick, or injured, or having a bad day. Reminding him to eat, drink, stop touching that, or go take a shower you stink. He was there with the I may be a talker but I’ve been told I’m a damn good listener and the You don’t need to say anythin. I gotcha.
Jack was just there. A constant presence in Mac’s life. Someone who would literally die for Mac to stay safe.
You go kaboom, I go kaboom.
“Hey.”
And it was terrifying, in all honesty.
“Ya alright? Ya spaced out on me for a sec.”
Mac blinked at him before turning back to the bomb in his lap. He cleared his throat, hoping he could trust the sound that would come out. “Yeah… yeah. I’m good.”
“Well then, get a move on. Joe said done by dinner. That gives you— what? Couple of hours? I know yer slow but ya ain’t that slow.”
Mac rolled his eyes, snorting slightly. “It uh, it doesn’t look too complicated.”
“So it ain’t gonna go kablamo if ya move it?”
“Considering it didn’t go off with the delivery, it’s safe to assume there’s no mercury switch… if it went through any checkpoints at all. It also doesn’t look like radio frequency would interrupt or set anything off either, so it should be safe to send updates.”
“Should is not definitely will not. We ain’t takin any chances until yer a hundred percent sure.” Jack ran his hand through his hair. “Did ya recognized the hand writin on it at all?”
Mac shook his head. The thing as a whole looked complex, but there were several things that didn’t make sense. There were a lot of loose things; wires not attached at either end, metal and plastic just sitting, a few actual glass marbles were glued down. The whole thing was thick heavy duty plastic, which made the least amount of sense, seeing as how hot the literal desert got. There were a few things that did look like an actual IED, but Mac still couldn’t place the complete wrongness he felt.
“There doesn’t look to be a timer or switch of any kind… this honestly looks like those cheap science kits that never works properly.”
“There any chance it ain’t actually an IED?”
“I mean— there’s definitely IED components but, not a proper one? I don’t know how to explain it. There’s wires connected to a screen but it doesn’t seem to have any sort of power source.”
“Kinda sounds like when the old tractor went on the fritz. I ever tell ya bout that?”
It was a funny thing; Jack always going into a story about something from his past. It was calming, strangely enough, hearing Jack’s drawl about something or other that happened in his life. It kept him grounded, kept him from thinking further into the what ifs of what could happen.
So he went about the IED, pulling things that weren’t connected in any way until he was left with everything that was attached. It was a lot smaller than originally, and overall didn’t look that difficult to actually deal with.
“I don’t think this was made here.” Mac mumbled, brow furrowed.
“And when my cousin started it— come again?” Jack raised a brow.
“I mean I’m pretty sure this is actually from the states…”
“I ain’t gonna disagree with ya, but every single piece of mail on every base gets scanned like a dozen times. Now unless the guys over there are skippin out on their job big time—”
“Most of the components wouldn’t set off any alarms from any scans. It’s like sending any sort of electronics through the mail. I wouldn’t be surprised if it looked like some sort of weird clock going through. Especially coming to me, wouldn’t raise any red flags to anyone.”
Jack snorted. “Raised red flags, just not the right ones.”
“Thought everything about me raised a red flag.”
“Hey, you maybe do things a little janky, but if it gets the job done then it’s a-okay in my book.”
A frown found it’s way to Mac’s face. He picked up the devise, rotating and flipping it to get a full view.
“Uh, I know I ain’t an IED expert, but isn’t movin that thing every which way bad?”
“I’ve seen this before.”
“That— good? Means ya know how to deal?”
He didn’t answer, instead pulling a panel off, exposing a small metal box. When his fingers touched it, the screen suddenly lit up.
Congratulations. You’ve completed Phase 1. Good luck with Phase 2.
“Mac?”
Mac frowned at the small screen suddenly going dark. Nothing about the whole situation made sense.
Then the screen lit up again.
Hope you have a Player 2.
Mac’s eyes immediately went to Jack, wide and fearful.
It started beeping.
Jack’s brow furrowed. “Mac—?”
Then it went off.
Not an explosion, not what everyone around there considered an explosion anyways. The bunk around Mac erupted in a white cloud. He shuffled back, coughing violently and almost falling from the bunk. It stung his nostrils and throat, and made his eyes water. He couldn’t hear anything besides his own horrid coughing, couldn’t feel anything besides the pain that had begun to coarse through his person. He vaguely understood the sensation of his legs under him, more so his legs stumbling as he was being pulled somewhere.
He could feel the sun hitting his skin and dirt under his hands. He could feel his throat closing and his lungs fighting to inflate with every breath. The way his mind became clouded and his heartbeat began to race faster than it previously was.
He could hear Jack talking to him, telling him to try and focus. And Mac tried, but he couldn’t fight the pull of sleep that was calling him.
***
Jack liked to think he could maintain a cool head in more than bad situations. He could count the times when he legitimately thought he was going to die and kept a cool head about it. Being DELTA and CIA helped him train his thoughts to keep the panic at bay for when things went haywire.
He was starting to believe that his training was for naught, because every time Mac was in danger, he panicked. Not a lot, but definitely more than he had before he knew Mac existed. He was an enigma that didn’t fit into the mold Jack had been trained for. He couldn’t help but panic whenever something remotely dangerous happened.
So when the bomb went off, Jack was sure his panic was justified.
There was only a moment of realization that he wasn’t dead, that there was no heat or pain from being impaled by something. There was a stinging in his eyes and lungs, but all of his oncoming pain was ignored for Mac.
Mac, who was coughing so violently that it made Jack actually think he’d cough up a lung. Mac, who was surrounded by a white cloud of unknown substance. Mac, who would’ve fallen from the bunk if Jack wasn’t there to pull him down and more or less drag him outside.
“I gotcha Mac. Hold on, I gotcha.” His throat felt dry and scratchy. He could only imagine how Mac felt getting a face full of whatever that stuff was. “Focus on breathin man.”
Mac’s ragged coughing tapered off and was soon replaced with wheezing breaths.
“Come on man, don’t give up on me.”
The thought of leaving his side even for a second made knots in his stomach, but he knew Mac needed help he couldn’t provide. He rolled Mac onto his side as a precaution and ran back inside the bunks to grab the radio and a bottle of water.
It crackled to life as he made his way back to Mac. He hadn’t moved and Jack was scared when it took a moment for him to see the slow rise and fall of his chest. He pried Mac’s eyes open and dumped the water in them, hopefully preventing any further damage. He then gathered Mac up, propping him against his chest to open his airways up, even just slightly more.
“This is Sergeant Jack Dalton breaking radio silence. Does anyone read me?”
Silence for a moment before the radio crackled in response. “We read you Dalton. What’s your status?”
“I’m in need of immediate medical assistance to my location.”
“What’s the status Dalton?”
“Bomb went off.” He kept his hand on Mac’s wrist, monitoring his heartbeat. “Thing erupted in a cloud of white powder. Mac got a face full of it and is currently unconscious, I got the tail end while I was pulling him outside. No external injuries that I can see.”
A different voice that time. “What’re your symptoms Dalton?”
“Throat’s on fire, hurts to take a deep breath, eyes are irritated and everythin’s a little blurry. Mac’s pulse is jackrabbitin, mine ain’t much better.”
More silence.
“How contained was the explosion?”
“Didn’t leave the bunk.”
For too long.
“We’re going to call in a hazmat team in case this is a new form of bioterrorism, but that could take up to an hour for those boys to get to your location. Until then, Doc Roe and a few guys are going to head your way to get a full status on yourself and Macgyver. Since the blast was contained well enough, it should be fine for them to get into med for the necessary equipment. Unless you went rummaging over there.”
“No sir. Haven’t left Mac’s side and no use in contaminatin more than what’s already got it.”
“Good. You just sit tight. Rescue’s coming.”
***
Jack was good at waiting. No one could say he wasn’t, because that’s literally what his job was; wait for an enemy to show up, wait for his tech to be finished with the bomb, wait for new orders to come in.
But waiting for Mac to wake up was one of the more difficult times.
When Doc Roe and the others had gotten there, Jack had Mac laid across his chest to help him breathe a little easier, but every breath was just as raspy as the one before it.
“How long’s he been out?”
“Minute or two before I got a call out. No reaction to outer stimulus. Believe it or not, him breathin now is a big improvement from earlier.”
“And how’re you doing?”
“Peachy.”
Both of them had been started on oxygen, but until the substance was identified, they couldn’t move anywhere without risking contamination. The best they could do was get a cot and move Mac into the shade.
It took too long for the hazmat team to get there; too long for them to conduct their initial tests to find out that, while it was a chemical attack, it wasn’t any sort of bio-agent that would spread person to person through the air.
They’d both been given a thorough scrub down before getting settled in a temporary med tent.
“I need you to report every moment since you two were left alone. No other bases have reported any strange activity with any mail going in or out, so we’re being led to believe that Macgyver was the soul target of this attack.”
Jack told him every detail of what he saw when Mac was disarming the bomb, how weird Mac thought it was because it was so unique with how it was put together.
“Before it went off, he said it looked familiar, like he’d seen it before.”
“As in he’s disarmed something of similar nature?”
“I don’t think so; said it was probably made in the states, so it’s likely that someone did actually mail him some sort of bomb that didn’t flag at all in our system.”
The devise had been taken, Jack being told it would be analyzed and dissected by another tech. Jack joked that Mac would hate to miss out on it.
It was hours before they got word about what Mac had gotten dosed with.
“Cyanide? Someone mailed Mac fuckin powdered cyanide?”
“Hydrogen cyanide and talc powder. It can be fatal if not treated immediately, but mixing it with the talc powder must have dampened its potency. Macgyver should be alright in the coming weeks as long as there’s no strenuous work that will aggravate his lungs and throat. We’re a bit worried about his vision since you said he was face first over the bomb when it went off, even if you washed them out nearly immediately after. We’ve done all we can for now. We’re just waiting for him to wake up.”
Jack was too, and it was taking way too long.
Everything from the bunks was taken for decontamination, and all the men that were housed there were given temporary lodging. Jack was told he could be with them, but everyone knew he wouldn’t leave Mac’s side.
It was the second night when Mac started to stir.
It started with a hitch in his breathing and small tremors on the cot, then changed into bouts of harsh cough and spasms.
“Easy, hoss.” Jack’s hands were on him, helping him sit up to try and catch his breath. “You just focus on breathin. I gotcha.”
The coughing died down into heavy wheezing, muted ever so slightly by the oxygen mask over his face. Mac looked at his surroundings in a moment of panic, sitting up straighter before settling on Jack. “Okay?”
His tone was raspy, like someone had taken sandpaper to his throat. “Yer gonna be okay Mac. Everyone was just waitin for you to wake up.”
“No… you— okay?”
If it didn’t warm and break Jack’s heart to hear Mac ask about his safety rather than his own. “I’m all good, I promise. Didn’t get nearly as much of that stuff in my lungs as you did.”
Mac sagged in Jack’s hold, the tension gone from his body in an instant. “Scared— you got caught— in the blast.”
“Nah man, I just got a little itty bit of it. Yer the one that’s been out for a day and a half.” He propped up the pillows behind him and laid him back. “Nothin should leave permanent damage, but it’s gonna suck for the next few weeks until all that stuff gets outta yer lungs.”
“W’happened?” A deep exhale, fogging up the oxygen mask.
“Lemme get the doc over here to check you out first before I start goin into all that. Don’t want yer heart rate to go up and make ya all excited and give ya a harder time breathin than ya already got.”
Doc Roe had been called in, pleased to see Mac conscious and somewhat coherent. He took all Mac’s stats, checked the inside of his throat, and did a brief vision test.
“Everything looks good, all considering.” Doc Roe said. “Your throat looks like the worst case of strep imaginable and your tracking is a bit off, but since you got a face full of hydrogen cyanide, and can see and talk at all— you can count it as a win.”
A frown on Mac’s face. “I got hit with— Prussic acid?”
“Don’t think Prussia had anythin to do with this, hoss.” Jack snorted in an attempt to lighten the dampened mood.
Mac leaned back into the pillows, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. “I think— I might know who did this.”
***
Mac always hated being sick.
He had vague memories of when his dad was still there, giving him a little thing of cough syrup and putting him to bed and not checking on him for the rest of the night. He remembered when he got caught in a downpour when going to Bozer’s and he ended up getting a bad cold and Loretta fussing over him, not letting him get out of bed for anything. There was a vivid memory from when he was at MIT with a mild case of the flu, and was alone and miserable in his dorm until his roommate got back, and proceeded to get him meds and soup from a place off campus.
Being the victim of prussic acid definitely sucked more than those times.
He needed eye drops twice daily as a precaution, even after passing Doc Roe’s tests while he was fully conscious, because even though his eyes hadn’t been immediately damaged, there was still the risk of something happening if he were exposed to the sun for too long. Eating solid foods were also on the not recommended list, not until his throat stopped looking like he gargled glass. A lot of his meals were either liquid based or something mashed, along with a disgustingly thick medical concoction that needed to be drunk to cost the inside of his throat to help heal it.
And Doc Roe was very persuasive about him keeping on top of doses.
“If you want to stay in the bunks then I better not hear anything about you saying it doesn’t hurt or you don’t need it. I have absolutely no issue with keeping you here, attached to an IV under Martin’s watch.
Needless to say, Mac promised he’d keep up with his doses, and Jack was given the rundown of when he should have things administered in case Mac did genuinely forget.
Mac was stationed in the med tent for three days until Doc Roe deemed him well enough to leave, but not before their CO came around to get as much information on the whole thing.
“Only you, Macgyver. How is it that you not only attracted unwanted attention from here, but also from back stateside?”
“I— just have that effect on people, sir.”
A snort. “I’ll bet. Now I’ve been told you might have a clue as to who exactly sent you this. Mind sharing it with the class so we can get a move on in our investigation?”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but the only time I’ve come across prussic acid was during my first year at MIT. A guy in my chemistry lab was attempting to use it to speed up a dye process. I’d looked over his formulas and seen he had a mistake in his math and his measurements were incorrect. The uh, the build for the bomb looked similar to contraptions we had to use in the labs.”
“Maybe just skip to the point on why you think it would be him.”
“Uh, I ended up getting him kicked out.”
“Do you remember his name?”
“It was Reggie, or Randy? We weren’t close. I’m pretty sure that was our only interaction.”
He was put on bed rest for a week so his lungs could heal from the immediate damage they’d received. All the guys took it amongst themselves to make sure Mac actually stayed in bed.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Why are you putting your boots on?”
“Get back up there.”
“For the love— I have to pee.”
“I’ll get you a bottle.”
“I’m going to throttle you. Don’t test me.”
And then there was Jack.
Sitting with him when he was stuck inside. Out walking around base when he needed to stretch his legs. Reading to him when his eyes were too tired to stay open. Helping him breathe when it felt like his lungs were closing up on him. He was there for every recurring check and test Doc Roe had to do, always knowing the right thing to say to ease the situation.
It had been the following week when Mac finally got news about the whole situation. He’d been laying on his bunk, a cold compress over his eyes.
“Rodney P. Shepard was taken into custody yesterday for the account of assaulting an active member of the United States Army and possible means of attempted murder. Our guys state side were able to trace the materials used back to his apartment, and viewing surveillance footage in the surrounding area let them see that he did leave his apartment with a package roughly the same shape and size and head towards the post office. They were also able to match the handwriting on the wrapping to various notes he’d written on the subject. He’ll stand trial in the next few days and receive whatever sentence the judge seems necessary. Macgyver, if you want to write a testimony…”
The sentence went unfinished. Mac waved his hand in the CO’s general direction from where he lay on his bunk. “No. I’m sure the judge will give him whatever they think is fair.”
“Alright. I’ll keep you informed as we receive updates. Until then, you just rest up. I know a few squads in other camps are using the unfortunate opportunity of you being benched to try to catch up to your stats, and I know how you’d hate for them to overtake you.”
The last line dropped with sarcasm, leading Mac to let out a huffed laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of letting that happen, sir.”
With that, the CO left and let silence hang around the bunks for a moment before Jack’s voice broke through.
“Ya sure ya don’t wanna press charges or nothin? Get him for all he’s worth?”
“I already ruined his life. I don’t need to make it any worse than it is.”
“Mac, the dude sent you a powdered poison bomb. He already fucked up his chances of anythin the second he got the thought in his head.” Jack sighed, knowing that the argument wouldn’t persuade Mac in any way. “Whaddya do to him anyways? You said ya got him kicked out.”
Mac rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t remember exactly, but probably accidentally exposing him stealing chemicals from the lab.”
“And one of those things was the Russian acid stuff?”
“Prussic acid, and no. The prussic acid was just something he— didn’t get? Every time we did lab and that was one of things we had to use, his experiment failed every time. I don’t remember the list of the things he stole but apparently he had a lab set up in his dorm and was synthesizing— something.”
“Okay so, the guy was probably makin some sorta super nerd drug, and you told yer teach and they went up the chain of command and all that led to the dude gettin kicked out.”
“Not quite. I was friends with the RA and made a comment is passing and one thing led to another…”
“Yeah, none of that was yer fault.”
“I literally just told you how it was all my fault.”
Jack crossed his arms and shoot his head, even though Mac couldn’t see. “Nope. You did nothin wrong. I just listen to you say how that guy was doin illegal stuff on a college campus and you just so happen to catch wind of it and accidentally caught yerself a bad guy before he could do anythin super dangerous.”
“Not everything.” Mac snorted.
“Hey.” The bunk creaked, and Mac felt Jack right next to him. “Kid, ya need to understand. You were the victim in this whole thing. Nothin you did was in the wrong. Ya hear me?”
He turned his head towards Jack’s voice, lifting the compress to look at him. “Sorry you got caught in it.”
“Don’t you give me any of that either. It ain’t nothin. Shit happens we can’t control. Besides, that’s got nothin on the time I got the flu when I was in middle school.” That got a laugh. “Got my ass handed to me and I was down and out for a week.”
“I know what you mean… I guess after all the years, he still didn’t get any of his math right. Prussic acid can do a number of used correctly.”
“Thank god for idiots.”
“Yeah, idiots.” Mac let the compress settled back on his eyes.
“I know that tone. There’s a story somewhere behind those words. Spill.”
“Let’s just say there was a time where a lot of my clothes were dyed hot pink and my hair somehow turned lime green.”
“Please tell me there are pictures of that.”
“Nope.”
“That’s yer lyin tone.”
“Jack—”
“Hold on, I gotta get a hold of Bozer.”
“Don’t you dare.”