Page 106 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

“My traps are superior,” Ira countered.

“You nearly got me in one of yours.”

“Sounds like you weren’t paying attention.”

“Gentlemen,” I interjected, waving the ant spray. “Can we not measure whose trap is more masculine?”

Remy sighed. “Can you let go of my ear now, please?”

Ira blinked, startled. “Oh, sorry. Forgot I was doing that.”

He released them both, and Jesse immediately rubbed his ear and muttered something under his breath that definitely included old man strength.

“So…” Jesse asked, stretching his neck. “You gonna do that to Barris if he comes anywhere near Gabby?”

Ira smirked. “It’s effective.”

Remy muttered, “Let’s see how effective it is when he’s pointing a gun at your chest.”

Ira just chuckled darkly, strolling back toward his coffee. “That’s child’s play. Let him try.”

I looked at Jesse and Remy and gave them a dry smile. “Welcome to my nightmare. There are cheesy puffs if you’re brave.”

Jesse eyed Ira warily, rubbing his ear one last time. “So, we’re cool to hang back, yeah? G.I. Grandpa doesn’t mind?”

Ira puffed out his chest with such pride you'd think someone just pinned a medal on him. At this, Jesse and Remy exchanged a glance—one part admiration, two parts concern.

“Seriously,” Jesse huffed, “you’re like a retired action figure come to life. They ever sell you at the VA gift shop?”

Ira adjusted his belt like he was tightening a utility harness. “Limited edition. Comes with a real skillet and a can of ant spray.”

They both wisely chose not to ask if he was joking.

“So, Gabby,” Remy said a little more gently. “How are you feeling? I mean—head injury, broken bones... What the hell were you thinking leaving the hospital?”

I lifted my chin. “Ira was very efficient at orchestrating my great escape. The man had scrubs, a plan, and a wheelchair. It was honestly kind of romantic.” Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Besides,” I added, “I’m managing just fine.” I paused, then turned to Jesse slowly. “You didn’t happen to know there was a deluxe bathroom in the cabin, did you?”

Jesse blinked. “What?”

“You know—the one attached to the main bedroom. Apparently, it's a big fancy thing, with a marble countertop, candles, and a toilet.”

Realization dawned, and a grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh shit, did Webb make you use the outhouse?” When I didn’t answer, his eyes lit up like he’d just discovered buried treasure. “You mean to tell me you were camping out in the bushes like a frontierswoman the whole time?”

I said nothing, and Jesse let out a bark of laughter so loud it startled the raccoons again. He doubled over and then just let himself fall to his knees in the dirt, laughing uncontrollably.

“I can’t—” gasp “That’s so cruel—” gasp “and so brilliant?—”

I waved my casts at him with all the fury of a woman scorned. “I can’t even use the damn thing now because I’m immobile, man. This is bathroom betrayal!”

Jesse collapsed sideways, howling. Remy stood stiff, lips twitching so violently it looked like he was trying to chew them off.

“I hope a rabid raccoon bites your balls when you’re not looking,” I hissed.

Ira, perfectly calm, sipped his coffee and shrugged. “Toss some food at his crotch. It'll happen.”

Jesse stopped laughing long enough to shoot him a look. “There’s a man code, you know.”

Ira leaned forward slightly, squinting at the dark tree line. “Yeah? Well, while you were rolling in the dirt, I was watching for movement and noticed a couple birds take off too fast out of the same bush. Something’s disturbing them.” That sobered everyone up. He sipped again, calm as ever. “So, if you’re here to protect Gabby, you’re doing a shit job at it. I’ve been watching the perimeter while you’ve been laughing like stoned hyenas.”

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