"No Life 'Til Leather"

No time for introductions. They're a social disease, as W used to say.

"They're just so useless." He'd say, lying bare on a makeshift stretcher. With Ines in another tent, Hoederer and Andy plastered all over himself, W would really relish in those moments when they had no choice but to listen to his infallible wisdom. "Greetings, introductions, welcomes, all those "hi's" and "hey's", the whole lot. Life's not a Victorian cocktail party, there's shit to be done and people to be put in the soil."

"You'll be put in the soil if you don't stop gesticulating so much." Hedley would mutter, laser-precisely locked on the merc-king's arm. It'd squirt some blood from the open wound, soon tamed by his thread and needle. In and out, the toothpick would pierce and enclose his skin, ridding them of a need for a proper clinic. "... Andy? Done?"

"Almost..." The boy would respond, with a pair of tweezers buried deep into the moron's flesh. He'd feel the warm meat parting under his metal grasp, grinding and groping around for the sight of lead. They'd wrap their prey in a death grip, deaf to W's annoyed cries. "... Think I got it."

"You better have, you fucking moron." He'd throw through gritted teeth, looking a little more pale than usual. "... Law-man, I'd blast your head off for that kinda service, you know? I'd blast your head off, but then I'd lose a half-decent sniper."

"And a half-decent medic." Andy would murmur back, while plinking the warm bullet into a steel bucket. Blood-soaked rags would shuffle and fall from their bodies, thudding softly at the floor and laying out a foundation for their crimson-splattered boots. W would yell and shout, promise Andy and Hedley a quick death, then also curse out Ines from a distance. Their little dysfunctional family would spend the day at his deathbed, gauging whether or not the day had finally been his last – and the following morning, they would all somewhat rejoice at the fact that it indeed was not.

Standing by the sleeping moron, Andy and Hedley would chit-chat about this and that, the great whatevers and mindless if's. Sometimes, one would open up to the other about whatever topic lay at hand, and spill a little something that they'd later regret. For example, that's how Andy learned about the big man's tough upbringing, being raised in the mobile city of Kazdel, the disgustingly vile industrial areas. That's also how Hedley learned about the picture that used to bring Andy to tears nearly every night. He never told him the names "Lemuel" and "Mostima", though.

Little friendly exchanges, with little to no weight strung to the bottoms. Pleasant talks by the deathbed of a white-haired reaper, veiled by a nocturnal silence, heard of only in the most halcyon nooks of Kazdel, away from the raging battlefields and booming reaches of mercenary prowess. Something to metaphorically kill the time, before the corporeal killing took form the following day.

He'd stare at his face, sometimes. When the conversations had all died down, when Hedley got switched by Ines and Andy was too afraid to open up to her, he'd imagine himself a new conversation partner, found within W.

W.

Him.

That fucking moron.

That one moron, he couldn't see himself ever parting with.

That one moron he'd fight tooth and nail for, whether it be on or off the battlefield. In the barracks, with a needle in hand, tweezers crushed by his teeth. The field kitchen, avoiding a flinging of knives and throwing of curses, wiping the vegetables off Sarkaz blood, piling grenades on the counter. He'd fight for him.

For them.

For W, and W.

He'd drop his coat in an instant, tear his sleeve off and wrap it tight around his, or her stomach. He'd watch the blood flow, gauge its reaction to his creation, and readjust the compression when necessary. He'd crack open the highest percentage'd bottle of alcohol the mass-murdering conehead could find, and pour it all over her wound. To his utter dismay and fright, the spirits would simply phase clean through her body, spilling at the other side. A fluke, he thought.