“Un-fucking-believable,” Colonel Dagon grunted while staring at the ashen-faced Ensign Balin. “You let him die because you wanted to watch the fireworks show?”
“No,” Balin forced himself not to shout, “you misheard.” He huffed, “he’s passed out in the Break Room. He needs a doctor.”
“Then why is he here?”
Unable to control himself, Balin blurted, “he and his bird freaked in the hospital. Demanded to come here. Thinks he’s being hunted.”
The cousin silently stared at each other, heads tilted at matching angles.
Balin’s shoulders slumped as the weight hit him, “war…” trailing off, his lips slammed shut forming a thin line of regret.