Snippet #1982072

Trent rolled his eyes. Of course, he had his cap pulled down, so nobody, least of all Jet, would see. Not that he've had minded if they did. The eye-rolling could practically be heard in his voice as he drawled back a response. "Anytime, boss-man. You want me to scavenge, or scout, or shoot anyone too? Wait. I already did all that." He didnt mind Jet being the one everyone looked to as a leader; let them come crying to him when they couldn't sleep or needed a good cry. He'd be damned if he was about to let the guy imply he wasn't pulling his weight though. Hell, if he weren't so wrapped up in being everyone's personal pretty-boy savior, he might have had the sense to delegate the watch in the first place.

That little thread of discontent was more than enough to wrap up Trent's mind and forestall the chance of sleep anytime soon. He sighed, silently, and pulled off his cap. Smoothing his hair, he let his eyes move slowly from each of the other survivors to the next. "While we're all plannin' on stayin' awake and feelin' so talkative, might be this is a good time to figure out what the fuck we're gonna do next. Plenty of fun shit to kill people with in here, but it ain't exactly defensible." His stare wound up on Jet at the end of his little speech. It wasn't exactly angry, or even malicious, but there was a sliver of pride shining in each of Trent's eyes. People had still talked about Jet like some kind of legend in his school, the same people who'd treated Trent like worse than shit... and this fucker'd brought a baseball bat to a gunfight, so to speak.

He wondered at least six times a day why he hadn't just gone on his own after meeting up with this lot; more often, actually, when he had spare time.