<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0e/Vedaa_Joe_3.jpeg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong> Joe (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Q-aqg2Y8RQJG8CwTzELOm8DUiDTjtAlG984nufI67Rc/edit)</strong></span><br/><div class="floatright">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/69/Vedaa_Joe.jpeg)</div><br/>Though Carla had opened the door, the hulking form of Joe was the first, and apparently last for a few moments at least, to emerge from it. He paced away and even stepped down to the corner, though no opposition seemed at the ready. He looked back and wondered what had delayed his gung-ho companions that almost beat him out of the building. His thoughts wandered a bit as he sought their company. Had the threat doubled back and struck through a side door and the others were inside fighting off the baddies, like that movie he watched the other night. What was it again? The thought washed away like water as the others filed out. No threat, no car, Joe began to wonder where they would go. He was the muscle, he knew his place, but he would try to be the smartest muscle he could be. He followed their guidance and directions, but led the way so that the others could shelter in his wide embrace. He thought of how he may need doc to sew his arms on backwards if that were going to be true and snickered to himself in his own thoughts.<br/><br/>Yes, he would be the smartest muscle he could be. That said, he found himself picking at the frayed spot in the lacings of one of his baseballs. His attention reviewing Stinson's winning ways with the ladies, and his need for a clean-up batter, just to bring him home. Dates often started well, but never seemed to make it to his place. Hmmm.