“Funny, I seem to remember getting my nose broken and a punch to the gut over just talking in a less than gentlemanly way about a woman.” Cal snorted, touching the side of his now-slightly-crooked beak.
“There’s nothing funny about it. If you want to punch me, make it count, asshole.” Ruy glared back.
“I’m not going to punch you, Mr. Cortada.”
“So, we’re back to that mister bullshit? I’m from Friedman, Cal. We don’t really like ‘Misters’ there.”
“Then it suits you, doesn’t it?” The other man stood up and grunted a laugh before strolling out of the common room and down the hallway. A moment later, Ruy heard the sound of running water as the scientist stepped into the shower to wash the dirt and dust of a day on Nuevo America off himself, leaving no more hot water for the rest of the night.
Ruy was starting to really hate this rock.