It makes him leery, anxious, and ready to fucking fight every second his body isn't so damned exhausted it makes him stay still. We'd only been in church for five minutes, and I was getting goddamned antsy. “Beam. Stryker.” Blackjack stood at the head of the table, staring at our two prospects like he was about to anoint them with holy oil. “You've proven yourselves. You've spilled blood and licked dirt for this club, and now you're going to do it some more.” The room was dead silent. The two men looked at each other, nervous as hell. It would've been funny if I didn't have so much shit on my mind. “The difference is, this time we'll be calling you our brothers. Welcome to the fold, boys. You've earned your bottom rockers, and the vote was unanimous.” The Prez stopped and looked at me. “Roman?” My cue to get up and hand them the patches I've been sitting on since we got into the room. The boys stared at me like their damned eyeballs were about to melt. They probably couldn't believe how quickly they'd been patched in.
