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"Stormy is a real special little thing, an' she deserves to be happy - but she's too damn young to be shackin' up just yet, an' I ain't gonna be real happy if this guy is a total sleazeball."

Tuck narrowed his eyes as Nevada moved the dirty laundry from the floor to the basket. It was a look that said I told you not to do that goddamn it, but he refrained from saying anything aloud.

"You know him, an' you sayin' he's a good guy? It's all good n' well, but I ain't gonna believe it til I meet 'im myself - an' you make sure you tell him she got two grown-a** men lookin' out for her, don't give a s**t what rank he is."

Tuck idly scratched the back of his neck.

"I mean, I trust your opinion of him, but I'm just sayin' is all I'm sayin'."

"Livin' together. Sleepin' together." Tuck waved a hand. So long as the guy was nice to Stormy, good to her like she deserved, Tuck didn't really care about much else. "Well, now, don't tell him that, I don't want to upset Stormy, an' if you say somethin' like that she's bound to get mad."

Tuck crossed his arms over his chest at the whole topic of dying. He felt completely and utterly frustrated in ways that he wasn't sure how to deal with.

He cleared his throat and moved towards the basket. Suddenly he just wanted to be alone, and he didn't know how to go about doing that without upsetting Nevada - but he felt volatile and angry, hurt and confusion welling up in his throat again.

"I should go wash this s**t."