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http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending“He didn't get it.”
Hate raises an eyebrow and slouches a little harder against the wall. “No shit, Sherlock. He wasn't even a fetus when it was filmed.”
“But it's a classic!” you protest.
“Classic piece of shit.”
“You fucking philistine. The camera work in that movie was fantastic. That was some goddamn *art,* you knuckle-dragging simian.”
“Skip, it was a *Marine.* Just because it says 'Navy' on our paychecks doesn't mean we're into the whole made-up sadomachoistic gay sex thing, okay?”
“Yeah, Marines always top in their gay sadomachoistic sex fantasies.”
“Ahem.”
You both turn to find Admiral Thomas's secretary glaring you down. “The admiral will see you, now.”
Hate raises his hand like a kid in class. “Oh, me, me!”
You give him a lidded-eyed Look by way of response.
“For Speaker For the Dead!”
The secretary tilts her head to study Hate from beneath her eyebrows. “BOTH of you.”
Hate lowers his hand, face blanking as he processes this. “It's YOUR fault!” he decides, stabbing an accusatory digit at you.
You try to slow your pace subtly, but Hate's onto you, easily concealing his wiry frame behind your bulk. With a sigh, you stride into Admiral Thomas's office standing as tall as you can - you can't see this ending without a good ass-chewing. Even in the most favorable light, you deserve several.
Admiral Thomas and Goto are both sitting behind his desk, peering at his computer screen in wonder. They both flick an intense, scrutinizing look at you, then back to the monitor.
You and Hate both salute crisply. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”
