Snippet #2538475

Brigitte rolled her eyes again. "Look, I—good God, what's your name?" she asked, curtaining her long hair back over her shoulders, "I don't even know what to call you. But I have no idea how to get you out to—"

The door knocked, not far away from the dark-haired visitor. Brigitte crossed over to twist a padlock and open. There stood Sherman, as though on cue. "Everything all right, Thibodeaux?" he gruffed, casting a quick look at the other man.

"We're having a heated discussion," Brigitte said, shooting the other soldier a look out of the corner of her eye, "and you're aware that there's a—"

"Slasher," Sherman broke in, "I just came down from Bonita's and she told me." He floated a glance at Null, with a hard-to-read expression. Frustration? Anger? A dark gleeful excitement? "She said to talk to 'John' about it."

Brigitte turned and looked at Null. "'John'?" she asked.

"John, I sure as hell wouldn't mind heading out into the desert," Sherman volunteered, his voice sounding almost... relaxed, in its element, in a way Brigitte had never heard before. "I love hunting me some cannibals."

Brigitte blinked. There. That ought to have washed her hands of having any part in this situation...