That really was the final straw. They’re just from different worlds. He was born a shoot-elk-from-a-zeppelin man and he’ll die a shoot-elk-from-a-zeppelin man. It was bad fate that he opened his heart to a dyed in the wool shoot-hogs-from-a-helicopter woman but the heart wants what the heart wants. When their eyes locked through their individual scopes as they were hovering over that petting zoo, there were fireworks. Sure, the explosions were because she shot his blimp down with a tracer round. But his heart was filled to bursting. So were his lungs from the exothermic expansion of the gasses which has previously kept him aloft. He fell hard and landed harder but he never once looked back. The neck brace wouldn’t allow it. Their relationship faced its share of slings and arrows when they each experimented with different ways of killing different critters for fun but they always had each others’ backs. Still, she always got a strange look in her eyes when they passed a bag of chicharrones or watched a Porky Pig cartoon. She was born to fly free, while gunning down large numbers of feral omnivores and claiming she was just helping farmers out.
