steel trap

"Amazing."

Frye would've asked what, but Doug was always appreciative. Such a nice guy. Such a stand-up guy. Such a...guy standing up way too straight for this time of the night.

"You really know how much HP every one of the Tyrants you've faced has?"

Well, duh. You had to know that stuff, or else you'd get killed, man! These things have extra attacks, and secret laser beams, and auras, and all that crap!

Nothing like the army, where it was just other guys on the other side. Sure, with nukes and drones, but all humans. All from the same planet.

So maybe Doug grew up a little bit differently than Frye did. Just a little bit. Frye'd come to be realizing that, every now and then.

"'Course I do. Ostrich's no birdbrain!"

Frye crowed it to the roof, and then the roof went a little sideways, but he righted himself in time. He and these barstools went way back. Used to be he'd spin around on 'em on purpose. Now, not so much.

But back to Doug. Doug chuckled to himself at the confirmed revelation - Frye's guess was that he really had thought Frye had nothing much going on upstairs. And maybe that was understandable, and maybe Frye didn't care because obviously he didn't have nothing to do with selling himself that way, but hey, from one soldier of the Harriers to another, don't you gotta just know these things?

Maybe Frye did care.

"Looks like I've gotta get to know you better, Frye," said Doug, smile warm but cocky. "Unless you're a one-man team...?"

Doug knew he was. Doug also knew that Frye was barely holding it together, and got into private conversations with Secretary Nagi about it every other week, recently.

Who was he kidding? They were all just holding on by their freakin' fingernails, too far strung out to do anything but throw their hands up and sigh.

And keep the Enemy Index on mental file. That too.