“And do what with it?”
“I don’t give a shit about your camera. Your camera isn’t my fucking concern. The animals are. And animals don’t do well when they’re scared.” Tucker thought of poor Daisy, and an experience that still poked through his mental barbed wire some days, like days when people from the past brought the past back with them. “Fuck!”
“I can’t… This camera cost a fortune. On credit. It’s not even paid for.”
“Why is the strap so frigging long, anyway?”
“The poncho…I needed to be able to get at it in a hurry for—”
“For what? The picture of Glory’s cub? You violated our space—our home—to snap a photo of a creature you could have literally scared to death or been killed trying to approach. You think paying off your credit card is worth jail time, Chad? How about your life?”
“A good reporter takes chances.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you got really mean since—” Chad clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he said through it.