All, you old-time queens

“What? So you can tell me everything is going to be okay?” he asked, accusingly. The Eta scoffed at Pump, not ready to be told such things. Kennedy knew for a fact that things were not going to be okay. They weren't okay before, they weren't okay now, and they weren't going to be okay in the future. Life was no bowl of roses, and Pump surely knew that by now.

“Or maybe you have some miracle solution that will fix all my problems, and I just haven’t heard of it.” The sarcasm-meter was running high right then, and Kennedy looked away from Pump. He was no child. He knew that his bum leg and shit attitude was going to get him nowhere. He had accepted it. Embraced it, even. He would be the pack grump, the scrooge that nobody else wanted to be.