I don’t care if I’m building cars with improvised technology for my bread and butter lately, or that I make my own hours – I HATE this job! Every hour on the hour that good for nothing Eric wants status updates, progress on which parts of the car are working… I don’t care how many wars the guy was around for, which military he served under, or how many meals I can eat off his elegant showroom floor, he is NOT AN ENGINEER! He knows nothing of the creative construction process!
I know that’s a good thing because we’re gonna blow this operation up one day but still! To work with these yahoos makes we want to break something!
Not only that, Father Ryan calls to tell me I gotta do a shopping run for him up in the voodoo district. I don’t like the voodoo district, because the guy I need to talk to gives me the feeling he’d be more comfortable in my skin than I am. Tells me I’ve got trials to face I’m nowhere near ready for, and won’t be until I dabble my feet in the mystic side of the pool. I’d love to tell the guy he’s screwing the hard sell but he knew his audience a bit too well.
NOT ONLY THAT, but Tony’s dragging me and Sally to the gala at the museum to protect the guy paying us from the assassin. I’ll be in an undertaker’s uniform surrounded by folks with too much money and too little sense and probably going to have to fight for a bunch of people’s lives, mine included.
First chance I get, I’m gonna bash the hell out of something with a chair.