"What's there to talk about? I fucking lost," he bit his tongue, having tried to watch his language around Cormac (but the boy was watching his mother's hair swish as if getting ready to strike) but it was proving fruitless. Finn's father had used foul language around them all the time, and he had grown up learning that if a curse word slipped out of his mouth, he would be in deep shit. So--Cormac will figure it out, whether or not he eliminated the words from his vocabulary.
Which sure as fucking hell wasn't going to be any time soon.
"There's nothing I can do about it now, so let's just make lunch and get over it," Finn nudged Cormac's toes with his own foot, gesturing for him to follow. There was nothing to talk about; they had lost, he was pissed off about it, and now he was hungry.
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