The Witch's Bottle
He smiled.
"MK153 Shoulder-launched Multi-Purpose Assault Weapon. 83.5 Millimeter Rockets. 7.6 pounds. Maximum range 500 meters." I rattled the info off in one breath, tone, hard. As if schooling a poolee or a boot. I looked straight past him, remembering, wondering what it all meant.
"Oorah," he said with a smile, blowing into his hands, the Marine coming out in him. I forced a smile on his behalf. He nodded in approval with a smile that told me he found comfort, someone who'd seen what he had. "What about you?"
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