A Wash was acquired, and Tucker shut the door behind him in victory. But, just to play fair, he did head back to the radio, turning it low just as Get Down Make Love started to play, the murmur of the lyrics barely discernible as Tucker dropped bonelessly back to the bed. At his least his steps had been mostly in a straight line. Mostly.

"Yeah, the problem with this is that there isn't even an ass to kick," he said. Not an ass that mattered, anyway. Not the ass he wanted.

...not like that. Just...the one he wanted to kick. The one that hurt him. Hurt all of them. That left them broken just like this.

And if Church hadn't...then...

His hand grabbed his bottle, bringing it to his lips as he took another draw off it. "If he hadn't, I know we would've died. Like, we just...were outnumbered. We weren't enough. Bastard would've gotten away with everything, and you'd be burying all of us." Even Caboose. Even...

"But I'm still so fucking pissed about it! I shouldn't be here! None of us should!"