"What is it?"

  A phone held out. 

  "I'm sorry.  No, I'm not sorry.  I'm running out of patience.  Sorry." 

  (i)Cough. Look at this.(i) 

  "I'm not giving you my contact info again.  I already did.  Didya get drunk again and delete us all?!" 

  "Is that Brit?" 

  "Drop kicked." 

  "Did she see this?  Does she know you recorded this?" 

  "This is not my footage.  This is on something someone's calling YouTube." (i)Gawd(i).  "You think I would violate one of us?  Sell out (i)my(i) Country?  She saw it." 

  "Not sorry, (i)fuck you(i)." 

  Something like parakeets alit from a nearby tree with a squealing chatter.  "Everyone take a breath." 

  "Fuck you too.  Sorry." 

  "In what context did she see it?" 

  "We were in holding and 

  "You were in the slammer?" 

  "She couldn't fathom why she couldn't remember what happened after 

  "In the slammer with famous people?" 

  "The ninjas showed up." 

  "That's cool." 

  "Where'd (i)they(i) show up?" She whipped out a tiny tape recorder. 

  "Where the gunners and Airmen chill." 

  "Was I there?" 

  "You tell me.  That place was filmed from about seven angles." 

  "Can I borrow that?" 

  "Sure." A plastic baggie was held out.  Phone deposited.  A latex glove used to zip it up.