The deflected question gets a shrug and a snort. Fair enough.

"My boss, huh?" He exhales between clenched teeth and rubs a hand on the back of his neck. "Well ... first and foremost, the guy's a born soldier. A goddamn genius when it comes to combat and spec ops. Charismatic -- but it's the real charisma that comes from decisive action, not pretty words. That's why the men like him."

There's a pause as his tone shifts from borderline adulation back to its former drunken cockiness. "Thing is, he's not the best businessman. Doesn't know how to market himself or his vision. So that's where I come in. He'd still be operating the MSF out of a leaky shack if I hadn't pulled in work fit for a legend like himself."