[The kid gets that, spitting back Comprende Old Man in plain (if accented) english. McCree rolls his eyes, mostly at how easily 76 falls back into that commanding tone of voice, but also at the idea of having to babysit for the next however many hours they plan on camping out here. He's much rather that than offing the kid, but still. Pain in the ass.]
Alright kid, buenas noches.
[McCree makes it quick, pistol-whipping the kid at the back of the head with a well-practiced flick of his wrist. He drags him by his good leg closer to their campfire and sets about tying him up, taking his pistol, rummaging through his wallet for the heck of it (Miguel of the Chupacabras, eh?) and then discovers his phone. Might be a problem. He tosses it to 76.]
What do you want to do with this?
[They could destroy it, turn it off, throw it in the middle of the desert somewhere... though an unanswered call might call unwanted attention. Any of those sounds better than letting Miguel keep it, however.
Meanwhile, McCree sets to bandage Miguel's knee. Easier to do with him unconscious, though it's not exactly the kind of care he'll need. Not McCree's problem.]
no subject
Alright kid, buenas noches.
[McCree makes it quick, pistol-whipping the kid at the back of the head with a well-practiced flick of his wrist. He drags him by his good leg closer to their campfire and sets about tying him up, taking his pistol, rummaging through his wallet for the heck of it (Miguel of the Chupacabras, eh?) and then discovers his phone. Might be a problem. He tosses it to 76.]
What do you want to do with this?
[They could destroy it, turn it off, throw it in the middle of the desert somewhere... though an unanswered call might call unwanted attention. Any of those sounds better than letting Miguel keep it, however.
Meanwhile, McCree sets to bandage Miguel's knee. Easier to do with him unconscious, though it's not exactly the kind of care he'll need. Not McCree's problem.]