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Wade Wilson wasn't sure if he should laugh or cry. Or maybe do both. There was just no way. Of course, he knew he could just kill the old decrepit looking man and the bouncy little brat and no one would ever be any the wiser, but Stryker would have a field day.
He'd go on and on about responsibility and all that shit. And as much as Wade Wilson didn't give a shit about responsibility, he hated being preached to. Stryker's voice wasn't really that attractive to listen to. It wasn't attractive at all.
And he couldn't just kill a kid in front of Jimmy. The guy would murder him. And at the least he will do it slowly and painfully.
"Do you understand Mister Wilson?" The old guy, whose name he didn't know, nor specifically wanted to know, dragged his name out.
He crossed his arms. Casual and cool, he'll show the bastard. "Yeah." One word? Well hell, he couldn't think of anymore.
He almost groaned as the man walked away.
He was the Merc with the mouth. Not the Merc with a kid!