Todd slipped the bottle of Jack into a pocket on his duffel bag. "Well guess that makes me the rookie then. I've been a tracker up in Boston for the past 2 years or so. And I don't necessarily mind skippin' the names and going straight to the humpin'. Though I also don't mind knowin' whose watchin' my back."<br/><br/>Skippin' names. He said it with distaste. He had started to get over the loss of his girlfriend, but the process was slow. He didn't like making emotional attachments if he didn't have to. He gave a very slight shake of his head. He could appreciate the sarcasm and lightheartedness of the trackers. One had to be or the depression of loosing friends and team mates when out gathering supplies would drive a sane man to suicide. He'd seen it a few times before. He looked up with a grin, "Ya'll can call me Todd, or Toad if you prefer, few of my cousins up north used ta call me that and I took to respondin' to it."