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Summary
“When are you gonna finish cleanin’ that freakin’ gun, pal?” Scout grumbled with a scrunched up face as he rocked back and forth on Sniper’s wooden chair. Each equilibrium shift made the nails and wood squeak irritatingly.
“Patience, Scout. You could use it.” Sniper mumbled under his breath.
Scoffing, Scout pointed a very annoyed finger at the man’s rifle. “You've been doin’ that crap all day!”