Troy

Hayden was sitting on a rock, chewing loudly as he snacked on what looked like a piece of jerky. I grimaced at the sound, shifting my weight to sit more comfortably on the cold dirt floor of the tunnel.

“You’re welcome for the clothes,” Hayden quipped, “I figured I could offer you one last kindness by not having your balls dragging in the dirt while we wait for, uh, whatever happens.”

“And what exactly is going to happen?” I asked tersely. ...