“Bash, you creepy motherfucker. How do you know what I’m thinking all the damn time, man? And seriously, you’re six-foot fucking six. You’ve got to weigh two hundred and fifty pounds.” Bash laughs. He knows what I’m about to say because we all say it all the time. “How the fuck do you manage to sneak up on all of us? Seriously, man. You need to walk louder or wear a goddamn bell around your neck or something.”
