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Nick: Those boys are comin' in heavy, you might want to hang back and let 'em do their thing.
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Cliff: So you were like Special Ops. What were you Seals? Rangers?
Nick: Officially, I'm only allowed to say that I've been a sworn officer participating in a phase of certain missions that would make most men want to crawl up and hide inside their own assholes.
Cydney: and unofficially?
Nick: I'm a goddamn American Jedi. Possible title number one, by the way.
Nick: Hey, see this? Took a frag from a Bouncing Betty. It's an antipersonnel mine. Caved in the back of my fucking head. Medevaced out to Germany. Got my skull rebuilt with space-age titanium. Can't go through a metal detector without ringing cherries, but that's cool. Let's me travel with Gilligan just about wherever I want.
Cydney: Gilligan?
Nick: My little buddy
Cliff: That's some toothpick
Nick: Here's the kicker, though. When I took that shrapnel, I never felt it. I mean, I felt the impact and I felt my backside go all wet, but no real pain. Now, maybe I don't recall the events in full. They did scoop out a little gray Spam back there, but get this. My wolf pack? They will swear that I was ambulatory for more than 17 minutes before they forced me to lie down. Tackled me. Even then I was looking to monkey-fuck a Marlboro Light. There's no nerve endings in the brain Cliff. Remember that when you write the scene.
Cliff: Yeah, there's some really good details there.
Gina: Yeah, he's really hard to kill.
Extended Reading
