You think you know? I woulda filled graveyards if they left any fucking bodies, he thinks, but he doesn't say it, because he doesn't want to play this game today. He's played it enough with Sam, all clenched fists and jaws and You think you fucking know me?

Shit is just shit, and if you're quibbling over the size of the pile, he thinks, you've sort of missed the fucking point.

"So the fuck're you doing here, anyway?" he asks, and shoots her a lopsided smile. "In general. Besides hiding in trees."