A stormy night
Diggs hears the "fuck it," knowing how often that comes with someone doing something he himself wouldn't like done, but feeling the need to do it. It was the sort of statement that made one pbrace themself for incredible luck or incomprehensible tragedy. So Diggs leaned into his stance, lowered his gun, lifted the light, and waited for the inevitable fucklessness.
Of course, "Kellen" screams behind his head.
"Got-DAMN it!"
Diggs jerked his head in frustration, wondering if they were freaking out like the trucker. It dawns on him, with their raised hands, what they were trying, and Diggs would have agreed that the plan could have needed some work. Still, couldn't fault a man for trying. Just for screaming behind him.
And Daniel's question was just so STUPID!
Well, that just wasn't a fair. Sparky there was just trying to help them figure out what was going on. It was Diggs that was growing increasingly uptight. He tried not to think of his girls, his Club, that traitor that still waited in their midst.
Diggs knew long ago that he got more angry as he got scared, a classic defensive maneuver. He just refused to admit it to himself.
But Smokey the Ranger was on to something.
"Hola, amiga," Diggs said. "Entiendes lo que estoy diciendo?" His voice still held that same depth that seemed too deep for his frame...or just right for his length.
He cleared his voice, then switched gears to, "Mas gusto mo ba ang Pilipino?"
Diggs wasn't a fan of revealing the languages he knew, but sometimes, in the words of "Kenan", fuck it.