David didn't scream. Not once. Sure, it hurt like a son of a bitch when Danny or Mikey would touch the scorching hot spoon the gunshot wound. Hell, it hurt like a mother fucker when they cleaned it with the alcohol. Nothing like having your brother pour Everclear on your bleeding arm to build that special bond of brotherhood.
Brie didn't scream either. If he could sit there and take the pain without so much as a groan in pain, then she could sit there and remain silent while they sealed the wound that the love of her life had in his arm. She was going to be strong for him.
As Dan wrapped David's arm, David gave him and Mike both dirty looks. "I'll be sure and repay the favor someday, you fucking monkeys."
"Hey, it's not our fault you were shot. Don't blame us."
"Oh, who am I supposed to blame?"
They looked at each other, then at Brie.
"Don't even try to put this off on her, you stupid mother fuckers. It's no more her fault than it is mine or yours. If I blame ANYONE, I blame the agency."
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