Woodhouse grabbed a mug from the selection on the shelf and lined up behind Bennett. “When will I learn not to stay up half the night watching MMA fighting?”
“Are they still showing that garbage?” Bennett handed Woodhouse the coffee pot.
“Mixed martial arts is an art form. Pure poetry in motion. Two men in peak physical condition taking each other on with no holds barred.”
“Not from where I sit. Two people kicking the shit out of each other is not poetic in any sense.”
“All you wusses say the same thing.”
Bennett shook his head and stepped around Woodhouse to take a seat next to Kala’s desk. She looked up at him from her computer and smiled. “Getting a cultural lesson from Woodhouse, were you?”
“You might say that.”
They were still smiling at each other when Rouleau and Gundersund walked into the office.
