Bolion couldn't help but narrow his eyes, and vowed to finish the job if he ever fought with her again, heaven forbid. He was still a tad drunk, but most of the effects had worn off. He stripped off his ruined shirt, and began to walk. He walked out of camp and down the road, for perhaps a mile, bringing nothing more than his trousers. He soon found what he was looking for, a small pond a mile or so south of camp, and stripped down. He slid into the water, the cold making him flinch, but soon relaxed.
You really fucked up this time bud, he thought to himself, and began to think over his options.