"Shot to death," JD blurted out. Blinking, he looked around the office at his teammates, his hands poised over his keyboard. "Doesn't that just sound weird to you?" he asked, his voice high.
"Don't know about 'weird', JD." Vin widened his eyes, snorting. "Sounds like something I'd like not to have happen."
"Amen to that, Brother." Josiah smirked.
"Yeah, JD. That would sort of... suck." Buck grinned.
"Well, duh." JD rolled his eyes. "Not particularly wanting it to happen to me, neither. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the phrase: shot to death. Doesn't it just seem wrong?"
"I think our colleagues have already covered the 'wrongness' of said phrase quite colorfully, Mr. Dunne."
"Jeesh. Do I have to draw you a picture?" JD huffed at them.
"I don't know, is it a picture of a yellow happy face with a bullet hole in its forehead?" Vin asked cheekily as he rocked back in his chair.
"No-o! It's not." JD shook his head and then gesticulated wildly. "I mean, 'shot to death'," he air quoted. "Who came up with that? Shot. To. Death. It's just so... goofy. There's no shot to... hurt. Or shot to... grazed. Or shot to critical condition. You see? There's no degrees. Just Bang! Shot to death." He stared at his teammates.
"Such an uplifting conversation for us ATF agents to be having." Josiah rapped his knuckles on his desk. "Here, let me knock on wood for you."
Buck smirked. "You can just knock on JD's head."
"And we're having this morbidly grim conversation, why?" Ezra gawked at the youngest agent.
"You been working a lot of hours in a row, JD. Are you tired?" Nathan cast a concerned eye on him.
"No, I'm not tired," JD defended. "I'm having an epiphany."
"Quick, Buck, look that up." Vin grinned as he cocked his head toward the drawer Buck kept his oft-used dictionary in.
Buck smirked haughtily as he bobbed his eyebrows. "Don't have to. I watched The Lion King 1½. I know exactly what it means."
"What's it mean?"
"It means..." Buck frowned. "You know... like... um... you figured something out. Profoundly."
"Wow. Mr. Wilmington. Your gift for prose astounds me." Ezra quipped drolly.
Buck glared at him. "You can just stick your astoundedness up your a-"
"Shot to... oh my god that hurts!" JD interrupted them. "Or... shot to OW! My big toe!" He shook his head. "Or shot to... I'll never sit again. But, no. There's just shot to death. I don't understand it. How can it be so... so... selective? I'm... offended!" He slapped his hand down on his desk. "I demand degrees of being shot to."
"That can be arranged, JD." Chris slowly walked out of his office, his suit coat tucked behind the holster on his hip, his hand on the butt of his gun. He smirked as he stared his youngest agent down. "I've got one for you, how about shot to... 'I'd better get my report done before my team leader gives me a 'degree'. " He smiled happily. "How's that sound?"
"Yeah, uh... Mr. Larabee. Sounds... uh... great." JD ducked his head and quickly started typing.
Chris looked around at the others. "Anyone else wanting to have an inane discussion instead of finishing the government work they're getting paid to do?"
Ezra raised his hand.
The corners of Chris' mouth turned down as he fought a grin. His eyes twinkled. "Yes, Ezra."
"Actually, Mr.Wilmington was about to tell me where I can stick my astound-ed-ness, and I'm quite sure the rest of the class would just love to know to which orifice he was referring."
Chris barked out a laugh. "Oh, I think we can all take a guess." He turned around and started towards his office. Glancing over his shoulder, he told them, "Anyone not turning their report in before five is going to get 'shot to excruciating pain'." He gave them a blinding smile and then slammed the door shut behind him.
Wincing, JD looked around at the others. He scrunched up his nose. "Ouch."
Buck laughed. "Shot to ouch."
The End
