[open starter]
"Oh, you know. Baking a cake," Tucker said, glaring at the orange captain. "What the fuck does it look like?"
He knew how harsh he sounded but was too head-strong to appologise. By now, he figured everyone was used to his brutal answers. “Fuck, I sound like Church,” Tucker muttered before changing the subject. “If I was making a cake, you’d have smelled it from a mile away.”
The Hawaiian easily took the insult, and popped another chip in his mouth. The rough and tumble way all of the captains spoke to eachother was more than normal. It sometimes actually made Grif miss Blood Gultch, if that was even possible.
"Simmons actually tested my smell back in the box canyon to know how far away he had to be with food that I wanted, so you would have to take that estimate up with him." He joked, finishing off the bag beside him.
Grif suddenly got serious, suporting his weight by leaning back on his arms. "Do you... like your team?"
