“So you’re like a hero hero,” I say, leaning back in my chair to get a better view of the man before me. Poor guy looks uncomfortable with the praise. I bet he doesn’t see himself that way at all. He’s all gruff and matter-of-fact. I bet he’s about to say that he’s just “doing his job.” “That’s the tequila making you exaggerate.” I scoff. “Okay, Top Gun. I’m sure someone whose home was saved by your perfect aim and huge set of brass balls would describe your contribution as ‘exaggerated.’”
