“Because I was protecting you.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you to protect me!” Her voice went to near-deafening decibels.
“That’s what a good husband does,” Sinner said, looking over his shoulder at Krista. “If he had let you get shot, then we’d have to kick his ass. Not to mention, we’d have to hear him whining over the fact that his wife got shot and he didn’t protect her. It would be this long melodramatic thing, and we’d all want to take out our guns and shoothim.”
“There’d probably be a debate over who got to pull the trigger,” Derek agreed.
“Ooh, like that time with Victor Adams,” Sinner laughed. “Remember? We couldn’t figure out whose shot was the kill shot?”
“What does this have to do with his wound?” Krista snapped.
They both looked at each other funnily. “Nothing. Just a bit of nostalgia for the road,” Sinner said.
Knight tore open the gauze and handed the alcohol to me. “Hold this.”
“No problem.”
“I really wouldn’t clean him up in here,” Derek said. “This is a rental.”
“Yeah, a little blood isn’t a big deal, but the moment you?—”
Knight tore open my shirt and poured the alcohol over the open wound. Biting down hard, my scream was muffled, thankfully, sounding more manly than I could have ever hoped for.
“That’s it. Just let it all out,” Sinner cheered me on. “I mean, obviously, since we’re already destroying the vehicle, it no longer matters how much blood is on the seats.”
“Would you shut up?” Krista screeched. “He’s been shot.”
“Oh, I know. Trust me. I’ve been there.”
“It’s more like a bad flesh wound,” Derek snorted. “I doubt he even has any internal injuries.”
“Ooh!” Sinner snapped his fingers. “Best injury on the job. By far, Rocco and the rusty farm equipment.”
“Oh, yes! Remember how he had to be carried over the trip wires? And the sepsis? Man, that was a good one.”
“Not helping,” I said through clenched teeth. Krista was worrying her bottom lip. The terror filling her eyes was hitting me hard in the gut, competing with the gaping wound.
“He’s going to be okay, right?” she asked Knight as he bandaged the wound, pressing hard on it.
“Sure.”
She flinched back. “What? What does sure mean?”
“Ooh! I know this one!” Sinner laughed. “It’s a non-answer to a stupid question.”
“That’s not it,” Derek snapped. “It’s a non-statement to a negative response.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Sinner argued.
“Yes, it does! The non-statement is sure. And the negative response is— Wait.”
“Exactly, it doesn’t make sense.”
Without thinking, I squeezed Krista’s hand. The arguing was even worse than the pain at this point.
“Why does it matter whatsuremeans?” Krista snapped.
“Because it has to do with the inflection in your voice. If you go high—sure, then that means you agree, but if you go low—sure,” Sinner said, pitching his voice low, “then it means you don’t really agree with what’s being said.”