"Its their fault, you know".
"Don't be ridiculous, its war, its what happens, people, Transformers, they die".
"Yeah, well, its not our damn war".
"Maybe not originally, but its here now, and we can either fight the 'Cons or we can lie down and let them take our planet".
"Easy for you to say, your wife's grave isn't occupied with some one's burnt pot roast".
"For God's sake, Spike, they said it was her!"
"They said it couldn't be identified, and if Perceptor can't ID the remains then no one can".
"Well, who the hell else are the going to belong to? She was the only one in that part of the building".
"It could have been from someone who ran in looking for cover, or someone who got lost, or maybe someone who was blown up and one heap went one way and the rest went the other".
"Everyone else has been accounted for, their remains found, and no one else was found in that area, Spike, it is Carly in that grave".
"Okay, okay, so maybe it is Carly, but if everyone is accounted for then where the hell is my son?"
There was a pause, no silence, of course, given their rowdy location.
"Spike, I think you've had enough".
"I'll decide when I have enough!"
"Had enough, Spike, had".
"Always the proper one, huh Chip? Always gotta be right, all the time, can't stand the fact that its not my wife in that hole!"
"Spike, please…"
"Please? Please what? Calm down? Stop making a scene? Huh? Is that what you want to say you damn coward?"
"Spike…"
"My family is dead".
Eyes narrowed, sweating hands on the sticky table between them, standing now.
"And they don't even have the decency to admit I'll never have them back, instead, they just perpetrate the notion that some dirty mongrel lies in the place of my beautiful Carly. So, Chip, you and your genetic identifying can go straight to Hell".
He skulled the last of the whisky, in a slightly oversized glass, and then stormed out of the smoky pub.