[If insecurity's your liquor, Blake is your fuckin' St. Patrick's Day parade. Anybody skimming along his brain is riding a choppy tide of aggression and poorly-suppressed doubt. This is a guy who's constantly watching for signs of weakness, because isn't everybody else doing that first?]

No such luck.

If you think anybody's bullshitting you about the rules around here, ask a native. They're not bright enough to make anything up.

[That's a troubling thought. Fuck, Blake's probably gotten rusty by now.

He gives a careless tough-guy wave of his hand.]

Nah. All you gotta do is remember that you squeeze the trigger instead of yelling, 'Gun, use Bullet on Methhead!'