There were days when his body just refused to work with him.
There was no rhyme or reason to these days; they just came and went as they pleased. If it weren't for the fact that they annoyed him to no end, Greg was sure he would find much amusement in the fact that these days followed as much a schedule as he did.
As soon as he had woken up on this particular Monday morning, he had immediately known that today would be one of the bad days. He hadn't even managed to open his eyes before he had noticed the sharp pain in between his back and hips right at the junction where his spine met with his left leg.
With full honesty, there was never a day in his life in which he wasn't in pain anymore. The bad days were just the days in which the pain was so strong that he couldn't just will himself to ignore it.
With a groan, he did his best to ignore the sting of what felt like a pinched nerve right at the back of his left hip. He lifted one arm to scrub that hand against his face, only to find that there was a radiating ache that started up at that hand's knuckles and radiated all the way down to his wrist.
He opened his eyes to learn that there was a headache forming at the to right of his skull. The longer he kept his eyes open, the more it began to crawl its way towards the center of his head, consuming as much as it could.
The boys had constantly told him that he needed to call them on days like these; that he needed to give himself the rest that his body was clearly desperately in need of. They had told him that he was no longer a young buck that could shake off falling from the third floor to give an amazing performance to eager concert goers only a few hours later. The opinions of the medically inclined folks Pat had recently brought into his life went pretty in line with the boys' thoughts, too- that he needed to slow down and listen to his body.
But he couldn't do that.
When the pads of his feet met with the cool wooden floor of the motel he had been staying at, a sharp stab of pain shot up from his heels all the way up to his thighs. His left ankle felt like it wanted to pop and he made sure to take away any of the weight he had pressed on that foot for a few seconds- just to get the stupid appendage to calm down.
In theory, it would be amazing to be able to plan days of rest for his body. He wasn't foolish enough to think that all the opinions of all of the docs in his life were all incorrect- his momma hadn't raised an idiot, after all. But it just wasn't viable to do as they asked. He couldn't tell when these days would hit. Because of that, he couldn't plan around them. They hit when they wanted, coming and going as they pleased. All he could do to prepare for them was keep up a minimum of good habits that Miss Chapel had printed out for him to keep close to him and review whenever necessary.
His life was filled up with a bunch of responsibilities that weren't just limited to himself. Other people needed him. And he couldn't just leave them high and dry because his body refused to cut him some slack.
So, once his legs didn't feel like they would give out beneath him and his knees only just felt like they were somewhat buckled, Greg would force himself to walk towards his travel pack and pull out the remnants of his pain killers. He would swallow them dry because he wasn't sure if he would be able to make the trip to find water without that in his system and then he would get dressed. After that, he would make his way down to the meager breakfast offerings that came with this hotel before he forced himself back on the road to reach Blue Valley.
The idea of getting on his motorcycle to make the trip and then properly begin his day made him want to curl up in the stiff sheets and sink into oblivion.
But he was a grown man that had promised Courtney he would be there for her softball game and then take her out to a celebration or consolation dinner at her favorite diner. And he wasn't about to let that little filly down just because his body wanted to be difficult.
He had arrived at the Dugan homestead thirty minutes behind schedule. The amount of pain he had been subjected to work through had meant that his walking speed had been greatly impacted, just like his riding tolerance. Even though he hadn't camped out of Blue Valley by a long distance, he had needed to take two breaks from the drive to be able to stretch his aching back and rub at the tight muscles that were trying to tempt him into forsaking his responsibilities and just giving up for the day.
Luckily for him, he had planned to arrive more than early enough to be able to spend a few hours with Courtney before they were going to ride out to the school's sport stadium, which meant that the day wouldn't be greatly impacted by his tardiness.
Once he had cut the bike's engine, Greg had found himself having to bite down on his bottom lip to attempt and distract himself from the spike in pain that shot through him from the whole of his stiff left leg.
He had barely managed to climb off the bike and steady himself on his feet before Courtney was running out of the house, shouting her cheerful greeting for him. Greg had turned to face her and moved to prepare for a hug, but he had been slow. And unprepared. She crashed into him with a flying hug that had almost made him lose his balance- he had needed to force his muscles to strain with strength they weren't ready for to stop them both from tumbling backwards and falling onto the lawn.
Courtney, so focused on catching him up on everything she had been doing during the past week with the Crocks that she hadn't really noticed the strain, was so happy to see him again… Greg hugged her back with as much strength as she was hugging him with.
His arms screamed and his legs yowled, but he ignored them. Courtney's smile was as blazing as the sun and more than worth all of this pain.
"Seems them folk've kept you busy, mija." Courtney kept a hold of his elbows once she pulled away from the hug, her blue eyes bright and alight. "Pat'll have a hard time gettin' you to calm down when he gets back."
"Sure will!"
The quick alertness of warning that hit him was not one that he was ashamed of; but he did do a quick of stamping it down.
With a smile still on his lips, he glanced away from Courtney and behind her.
The Crocks were a couple he knew much too well for comfort. It was still baffling, to a degree, that they had been the ones Pat had called on to babysit Courtney while he, Barb, and Mike went off for the highly personal trip that would be having the boy meet his biological mother for the first time. But Greg trusted his friend's judgment- if he thought the Crocks were worthy of his trust, then he wasn't about to put up a fight.
It wasn't like he could have come over and helped care for the girl, after all. He had been wrapped up these last few days in tracking a particularly vicious varmint's tail for the Flash- that situation had been sorted out, but there had been no way he would have been able to do that and been in Blue Valley in time to take over Courtney Care Duties.
"Good mornin', you three." it was right weird for them three to be standing at the front of the house, posing like a picture-perfect American family- so perfect they looked like they could have been painted by Norman Rockwell. "Hope Court ain't been more 'an a handful."
Lawrence Crock's sharp eyes had stared him down plenty of times before, back when they had been on opposing teams. Greg knew how dangerous those eyes could be; how much intelligence his façade of stupid could hide. That's why he knew that there was something being machinated by the man when his eyes warmth didn't coincide with the overwhelming smarminess of his smile.
"She's been great." he said this as he clapped his daughter's shoulder; Artemis offered him a small nod even as she allowed her own smile to drop and a content look to come over her face. "Why don't you come on in, cowboy? We have tea and zucchini bread."
Courtney finally detached from him to move to his side, offering him a calming smile to whisper "It's not as bad as it sounds" as the Crocks moved to enter the Dugan home.
Greg breathed in deep, successfully covered up the wince he wanted to let out when that caused another spike to shoot through his hip, and then nodded at the blonde teen. He wasn't quite excited to try that food, but Barb had been kind enough to warn him about the Crock's more eccentric healthy habits and prepare him mentally for he might be subjected to. Then he told her that they could sneak off for milkshakes after the game to really fill out the calories that tea and bread wouldn't be giving them.
Courtney wanted five- one for every day she had not been able to drink her regular mochaccino from the nearby bakery because the Crocks had just about banned her from anything that had more than fifteen grams of sugar per serving.
"The monsters." he had whispered dramatically as he fought to climb up the stairs that would take them into the Dugan house; from the way Courtney giggled and agreed with him, he was able to know that his pain hadn't shown up on his face as he had done so.
"I'm so happy you're here, Uncle Greg."
His heart squeezed and he ignored the way his arm groaned and begged him to just stop; he pulled Courtney in for a one-sided hug and rubbed her arm reassuringly as they crossed through the threshold of the home.
"An' I'm even happier."
His left wrist popped uncomfortably as he squeezed her arm before allowing his arm to come back to him.
"Now let's eat some o' that healthy stuff to not feel guilty over the ten shakes we'll be orderin' tonight."
His stomach roiled with discomfort at the very idea of eating anything, much less something that he had never tried before and wasn't particularly keen to try. His innards felt like they wouldn't be able to really fit anything in after the simple coffee and toast breakfast he had forced into them, but he wasn't about to be rude. The Crocks had made them something to eat and he would be eating it.
Besides, he was sure Courtney would appreciate having someone suffering with her after almost a full week of this kind of healthy living.
Paula didn't bother with hiding her thoughts; her face was generally always kept in a stoic, unimpressed stance that allowed all to see how disinterested she was with just about any topic that had nothing to do with health, fitness, or her daughter and her interests. Unlike her husband, she didn't hide behind silliness; instead, she hid her more intelligent contemplations behind a veneer of just not caring.
Pat and Barb had both warned him to be careful of giving too much away about his personal life. They didn't expect the ex-villains to try and do anything to hurt him; they were more than happy to be on their best behavior if it meant that Artemis would have a permanent place on Courtney's reborn JSA team. What they did expect, though, was for them to become overly involved in particular aspects of his life if he told them anything they considered to be worthy of worrying over.
That had been one of the reasons why the Crocks had basically moved into the Dugan home while Pat, Barb, and Mike had been gone. Even though Courtney could have gone to stay with the Chapels, the Crocks had insisted that they would be the best guardians to keep her safe and protected while most of the family was gone. Pat hadn't wanted to start up a fight with them and had given in within ten minutes of Lawrence having offer-demanded the set-up.
Greg may have thought that there would have been better fits for Courtney during this time, but he hadn't told Pat as much. They both knew that Pat hadn't thought this was the best idea and had understood the issues with this; there had been no reason for Greg to add to all of the worries that Pat had running through his head.
Because of the words of warning, Greg made sure to keep the conversation they shared over white tea and home-made zucchini bread centered over Courtney, Artemis, the game they would be playing in today, and the things the JSA had been up to. Whenever either Artemis or Lawrence asked him a question directly about his life, he made sure to keep his answer curt, short, and sweet. He would then ask Courtney some kind of follow up about her own life, expertly dodging away from them digging too much into his own life.
Artemis was clearly the kid of both Crocks- her face remained in a calm, disinterested semi-glower most of the time, clearly a habit from her mother. But she could talk a storm, just like her father. The way she attempted to bulldoze a conversation and get information from him about his personal life was very much something she had acquired from both parents.
Sharing a late morning snack with two ex-villains, one kind-of-but-not-really-ex-villain-turned-new-teenage-hero, and a ball of sunshine and energy was a surreal experience in and of itself. If not for the way his back never allowed him to forget how much it hated being sat at the counter stool and the way his knuckles made him have to stretch his fingers out every few minutes or so, he may have even enjoyed the interaction.
He could understand how the Crocks had become a fixture in the Dugan-Whitmore house. Their eagerness and lack of much grace was endearing.
"We have to start getting ready." Artemis stood up after she had dismissed her alarm. "Come on, Courtney."
Courtney's slice of bread was only halfway eaten and her drink had been mostly untouched; she jumped at the chance to scurry away from the kitchen without having to explain herself.
Greg smiled at her retreat, nodded at the quick glance Artemis sent him over her shoulders, and then glanced down at the watch he kept attached to his wrist at just about all hours of the day. Four hours had passed since he had drank his pills- it may have been on the short end of the limit the medication gave, but he was cleared for a second round.
"So, Gregory," Lawrence started up after the girls' steps had faded away from their hearing.
"Gregory's my pa's name; call me Greg." the petition rolled off this tongue before he could even contemplate if it would be a good or bad idea; the smile that came over Lawrence's face immediately let him know it had been both at the same time.
"Nicknames already, eh?" with a rolling of his shoulders, he stood up and began to tidy up the kitchen counter. "Good- call me Larry then. Or Crusher. Whichever you prefer."
Paula stood up and began to move on silent feet, quickly following her husband's lead. Neither of them commented on Courtney's barely touched meal as they grabbed her wares; they didn't take his away, though.
Which was a darn shame- it made him feel like he needed to finish everything in his cup and plate.
"Court tells us you've been riding rough for two months now." Larry- because he would never be able to call someone Crusher unironically without giving in to a fit of giggles like an idiot- started up conversationally, once again making a point of trying to find out information on him.
Greg wasn't about to be rude to the people that had been taking such fine care of Courtney and had given him a fine meal- his taste buds weren't necessarily happy with the food, but he could tell that both the bread and tea were good. But he wasn't about to become a Chatty Cathy around them, either. So he settled for the kind of stalwart answers he had learned to give from a father that had never been any good at showcasing any human emotion other than anger and disappointment.
"Thereabouts." he answered as he grabbed his half-filled cup, then made a point of bringing it up to his lips and taking a sip from it.
"A drifter lifestyle, then." even if that hadn't sounded like a question, Greg still gave a quick nod. He took advantage of the fact that both Crocks were busy with the clean up to look over behind himself and towards the doorway of the kitchen, which allowed him to see the spot in which Larry had dropped his backpack after he had stolen it away with insistent kindness. "You get many breaks from the constant traveling? You know that human bodies weren't created to sit still for hours on end to zip up and down on a moped."
He could hear the clattering of plates and cups before the faucet was turned on and water began to run over the plates that had been dropped into the sink. Greg breathed in to prepare himself for the jolt of agony that would come over his body once his feet were placed firmly on the ground once more; this would be painful, but he knew that he needed to get a move on if he wanted to get his pills.
"I'm a drifter by nature." he settled on as his non-answer as he moved himself to the edge of the stool, then bit hard down on his bottom lip as he bit the bullet and quickly moved to stand up.
The pain was exactly what he had expected- it still stole his breath away and made him want to let out a string of curses.
"You should visit Blue Valley more often." Paula was the one to speak up now and Greg forced himself to move and not think too much about how bad his knees were screaming at him to take a break for once in his life. "Artemis enjoyed learning your lessons on horse-back riding and roping."
"I'm sure I could fit that into my schedule at some point." his voice, unfortunately, sounded strained to his own ears. "I'll be right back, y'two. Just gonna get somethin' from my bag."
If he was lucky, they wouldn't notice his odd actions and tone.
The game was a slog of pain.
By this point in the day, the medicine he had been taking had only been affecting him to a minimum. He was consumed by a constant buzz of absolute ache that wouldn't leave his body; it wouldn't allow him to focus on anything but it, no matter how hard he tried.
The Crocks were the main reason why he was able to keep up appearances.
Sat beside them, he was able to keep up with the happenings of the game, even if he wasn't quite able to really understand them. Whenever Lawrence shouted about something being unfair, he knew that it was time to look discontent and even let out a couple of huffs of disapproval. Whenever he swelled with cheers, he knew it was time to start clapping. And when Paula let out some kind of acknowledgment of any kind, he knew it was time to ham it up and make a grand old show because she was underdramatic while Larry was overdramatic.
Seeing the happy beams both Artemis and Courtney sent their way whenever it was their time to do something big in the game, Greg had to admit… even with the way his body was burning, his eyes were tearing up, and his head was pounding… he'd put himself through this hell ten times over if it meant making those two this happy.
Even with her lineage behind her, Artemis was a good kid. She was intense and so skilled she was a danger, sure, but she was genuine. And her friendship with Courtney clearly meant the world to her. There was malice in her, sure, but she seemed to have been doing a fine job of redirecting it to the right places ever since she had joined the JSA.
Clapping made his hands yowl and beg for some respite; his ears registered the swelling cheers and jeers from the crowd in a way that made them ring and rattle.
By the time the game had ended, he had begun to contemplate the possibility of hitting up the nearest pharmacy for a stronger pain killer before he walked with Courtney to the diner.
He had to work hard to keep the beaming smile on his face when he remembered how the Crocks had managed to convince them to pile into their van instead of letting him drive Courtney over on his bike. They had insisted that it would be for the best to not have to hassle with additional parking when they could just pile into the car- "It's better for the environment to carpool, too," Courtney, the unknowing traitor, had added.
This meant that he would be needing to further push his body into walking to a diner that was God knew how many blocks away… just thinking about it made him want to scream.
He couldn't pop into a pharmacy. Not if he didn't want to add further strain to his body.
Two more hours to go and then he would be able to drink some pills… maybe he should take a double dosage this time around.
Once the game was over, the final team speech was finished up, and there was nothing left to do other than get together and talk, Paula stood up from beside him. Larry had leapt out of the bench as soon as the final buzzer had sounded out, jumping down the rest of the benches while he ignored the complaints from the other game visitors, to run to Artemis and crush her into a hug.
It had been odd but not unpleasant to see the way in which Courtney had buzzed when he had ruffled her hair, messing up her ponytail.
Weird, but not bad.
That was how he assuredly felt about this whole 'Crock rehabilitation' business.
"You're pale."
Paula's frown was not lost on him. Just like her displeased tone was more than easy to parse out.
Greg waved her off and did his best to not groan as he forced his aching, tense body to move up off the bench and get into motion, "Think I need ta get some milkshakes in me- could be my blood sugar."
He heard something that sounded quite a lot like Paula clicking her tongue at him, but he chalked that up to him being somewhat delirious. He squeezed his eyes real quick as the world around him began to swim, attempting to will himself into a less frazzled state before he began to arduous trek towards the stairs.
"We should get to steppin', shouldn't we? Promised Court we'd get some burgers right after the game."
He wasn't sure what the Crocks own plans were, now that he thought about it. He just hoped that they wouldn't tag along; if they did, he wasn't sure just how much junk they'd be able to buy without getting grief for it.
When he opened his eyes, he found that the world hadn't stopped swimming; it had also began to get fuzzy.
Fuck.
He breathed in, closed them tight again, and now rubbed at them with his left index finger and thumb.
The sway that came over him was all in his head, he was sure. But it was bad enough to make his innards begin to churn, discontent over the nausea that was coming over him.
Fuck.
"Oh, you didn't hear." there was a cool hand suddenly on the small of his back, gentle yet deadly as it pressed sternly against him. "Courtney, Artemis, and some of their teammates are going to celebrate their victory tonight. You can take her out for those diabetes drinks tomorrow."
What?
He had to focus hard on staying on his feet as he slowly moved to glance behind him; Paula's face was pulled in with a sharp, displeased frown as she glared at him. He knew for a fact that he was wobbling when he could swear he could see her still face not staying still.
"But… I made a promise."
"You know how teenagers are." the smile, apologetic, that she gave him, didn't seem none too real as her eyes remained cold. "That being said, you'll get your chance tomorrow. Now, come on, Greg. I'm making chili for us tonight. Artemis doesn't really like it all that much."
Was… was there much of a need for him to join the Crocks for dinner?
Not at all.
"Y'ain't gotta worry 'bout me." he tried to lift one leg to begin walking; he tried to ignore the way that the only thing that was keeping him from swaying like the ocean was Paula's hand on him. "I'll just make m'self scarce-"
"Oh, look, there's the girls!" Paula interrupted suddenly and he wasn't able to stop himself from wincing at the stab that sent through his already swimming and aching head. "Come on. We should congratulate them before they leave." she pressed him into motion with her hand pushing at him softly- but she didn't really rush him.
Greg wasn't quite sure what was even happening anymore.
He found himself following Paula's directions as she kept his hand on him; when he stumbled over one step and almost went tumbling down a good twenty feet, she grabbed his arm and kept him from causing himself any real harm. He tried to pull away from her then after thanking her; she didn't allow him to go and instead forced her way to his side and kept a tight grip on his forearm as they went down the steps at the same time.
Quite frankly, if it hadn't been due to the fact that he gave up and acknowledged that he may have overdone it, it would have been embarrassing to need her help to not get himself killed by just going down some stairs.
All he could hope for at this point was that the Crocks wouldn't make fun of him for being so needlessly weak.
"Is it a hero thing? Feels like this is a hero thing."
"I ain't need-"
"Shut up, cowboy."
Unlike all of Larry's other questions and observations, that last order was let out in a sharp, unimpressed tone that told Greg he wasn't going to get away with any attempts to wriggle out of this.
The massage he was being subjected to was focused on his back which, apparently, was so filled up with spasms and cramps that Larry had no logical explanation for him having been able to go about his day without keeling over any sooner. Larry's hands were gentle but firm as they worked through every knot; Greg had to force himself to keep his lips caught between his teeth to stop himself from letting out all of the hisses of pain that the undoing of the damn things put him through.
Quite frankly, even with how patient and merciful Crock was being, this was one of those times in which the treatment was worse than the symptoms they were supposed to alleviate.
"Pat warned us you'd probably be out of sorts, but dammit, it's a miracle you haven't blown your back out yet." Larry's tone went right back to a mostly pleasant conversational one; but there was an undertone of concern there that made alarms begin to ring within Greg's hazy mind. "We're not twenty anymore, man. You've gotta be more careful."
He allowed his head to fall back onto the pillow- that caused his answer to be muffled and come out barely intelligible. He was careful. He just couldn't put his life on pause just because his body was acting ridiculously.
If Larry understood all that, he wasn't sure. But he did let go of a disbelieving scoff before his hands were pressing particularly harshly into his left hip, making some rotating motions that had tears springing up into his eyes and forcing a surprised gasp out of him that he wasn't able to stamp down on.
"I swear, cowboy, if you're not going to promise that you'll take better care of yourself, Paula and I are gonna get Pat and Barb to keep you around. If you're not going to look after yourself, someone has to."
The Soldiers had tried that on plenty of occasions. Just like Doc Mid-Nite and Garrick; just like Vixen, Booster, and other members of the Justice League. They had never really gotten too far because he had never been able to stick to one place long enough for them to successfully for him to stay put.
He knew that people worried about him, but there was no need for it. He had been taking care of himself well before most of them had come into his life; he had needed to do so to keep himself alive for a greater part of his lonesome life, after all.
"You're exaggeratin'." he managed to speak through his gritted teeth and Larry let out an unimpressed sound before he dug his finger cruelly to make a point; to force a hiss out of him, the bastard.
"You're a self-sacrificing idiot that cannot take care of himself." Larry stated in a deadpan, missing most of his usual exuberance. It was replaced with an uncharacteristic severity that worried Greg. "That's it, mister, Paula and I are taking over your case. You're not leaving Blue Valley until we clear it."
"What?" Greg gasped, "Listen, just 'cause y'think y'can boss Pat 'round, it don't mean you'll-"
"Oh, cowboy, you do not want to challenge me right now." now his tone took on an amused edge that was more sardonic than joyful, "You mean a lot to the Dugans. The Dugans mean a lot to me. That means you mean a lot to me. And if you know one thing about me, it's that I'm relentless."
He was being threatened by an ex-villain.
He wasn't being threatened with death, kidnapping, or any other normal form of danger that villains were known for.
He was being threatened with being locked up for his own good.
"Now just relax and let me finish up here. Paula should be done with the chili in a few minutes."
"I had no idea you could be so underhanded, Stripesy."
Richard sipped calmly at the tea that Maria had so lovingly brewed for him, letting out a pleased smile as its taste danced on his taste buds.
Pat sighed heavily as he let out a small shrug; he glanced over Swift's shoulder and towards the people that had caught his attention enough to make an observation of it.
Artemis, Court, and the rest of the JSA plus Jennie and Todd were out and about the town; Courtney had told them that they would probably be hitting the drive-in before they went on patrol. This meant that there were only two Crocks taking over one booth in the diner.
Said Crocks were some of the most passionate, honest, and relentless people he had ever met in his life.
In a way, he felt bad for what he had tricked Greg into. In another, he knew it was the right thing to have done.
"None of us have the heart to put our foot down on him." he mentioned to the odd friend he had made because of Courtney believing that people could change. Greg was trapped between a wall and Paula, glaring up a storm at the meal that had more green on it than he ever would have wanted on a plate while Larry chattered about something Pat couldn't make out. "We've tried plenty of times to get him to stick around one place so many times I've lost count- it never stuck and he went right back to being a nomad."
"So you sick the Crocks on him?" with a tsk and a small shake of his head, Richard smiled somewhat before he put his teacup down. "I thought this was your friend, Pat."
"He is."
Greg had long ago stopped sending glares in his direction, but he hadn't stopped frowning quite yet.
His gaunt cheeks had filled out noticeably and there was more color to his skin than the last time he had seen the cowboy.
"That's exactly why I needed to bring in the big guns."
Flash had been the one to alert him to the fact that Greg wasn't doing great recently. Barry Allen didn't know Greg as well as Jay Garrick had, but it seemed that Jay had told him enough about the cowboy for him to be able to pinpoint when something wasn't right. And that meant that Flash had been kind enough to give Pat a quick heads up after Greg had rode off at sunset to begin the long trek to Blue Valley Nebraska so he wouldn't miss Courtney's game. From Central City. After a full month of chasing after the villain that had eluded the Flash's for two months. Which had happened after he had helped Lee and Sir Justin wrap up a case of runaway magic in California.
He wasn't quite sure what, exactly, Greg had been doing before that, but he hadn't needed to. It was obvious that Greg hadn't allowed himself a moment's rest in the last half year- at the very least. And he had been looking rough enough for Allen to feel the need to call him.
The official story that Greg thought everyone had been given was that he had agreed to stay in Blue Valley to further train the JSA and help their rehabilitation plans for the ex-criminals that called this place home. He didn't need to know that most of them knew that the real reason he was here was because he had been deemed enough a danger to himself that even the Crocks had decided to step in.
"Well, at least he has yet to bite anyone."
Pat turned an unimpressed look at Swift at that; the Brit had the audacity to raise up an eyebrow at him.
The gall of some of these ex-villains.
"That happened once and it was because you tied his hands up. What were you expecting?"
"A modicum of decency."
Pat rolled his eyes at that and decided to drop that conversation. Swift still being annoyed at something that had happened to him years ago because of his own bad decisions wasn't something he needed to bother with, after all.
What he did need to bother with, though, was calling up the rest of the Soldiers to plan a day for them to come over and have a small gathering to give Greg a little respite from the Crocks. He could tell that the feral look in Greg's eyes would only worsen if they didn't give him something to distract himself with but they couldn't risk him escaping to go back to his drifting ways quite yet.