The heated tension dissolves into one of our now-familiar rounds of playful needling and mock outrage between the three of us cantankerous comrades. Greg continues to goad Zander with his trademark rakish irreverence, while the gruff medic fires back increasingly blustery threats and put-upon scoldings that we all know are more puffery than genuine aggravation.
I can't quite stifle the breathless peals of laughter that keep bubbling up from my chest at their absurd male postulating. There's something so painfully, beautifully human about these moments of levity amidst the ever-present storm of violence and horror surrounding us. As if we're all silently clinging to whatever shreds of lightness and wry camaraderie we can grasp, no matter how fleeting, to keep the shadows at bay.
At last,
