That smile and that question and it was all Thatch could do not to punch Marco in the face and keep on going. A fresh wave of cold washed through him and the overwhelming desire to see him bleed nearly choked him. He smiled, somehow, and pushed Marco to the side so he could get up and move to the kitchen.

"I could use a beer or two," he said, his voice tight as he looked into the near empty fridge. Beer was nearly all there was right now. Though... "You want some stir fry?"