Shit, well, someone was proud of what they did. Tucker laughed under his breath, lashes low as he took another bite. The guy had enemies, had people he hated, people who hated him. Baaaggage, Tucker thought, but who here didn’t have it? Who here hadn’t made a shit ton of enemies?

Still, he never had spoken with a terrorist before. Huh.

“Whoa, down there, puppy.” He sat back with a slow roll of his shoulders. “I mean, what do they look like? I can try to help you take them out if you want.”

Oh, the secrets part. It was fuzzy a little, but—“Alien weaponry. It’s why I have the sword.” His chin dipped a little as the words left his lips. He felt like he was reciting a script, words someone else made him repeat over and over again. “Lots of plans, layouts, locations, what they do…but this sword I plucked from the UNSC itself. It’s pretty fucking badass.” There was a pause. “I mean, for disgusting fucking aliens, they make some awesome weapons. Asf ar as I’m concerned, kill them all and let us have the treats.”

It felt…weird saying it. Wrong, enough that he hesitated, but—No. No, this was what he thought. Those fucking reptiles had wiped out whole planets; it made sense. It—

“Oh, fuck, you’re melodramatic. You won’t die.” God, new guy… “Or at least, you won’t know if you do.”