Dingo was thinking about Gun again. Gun was a strange brute. He was a protective, quick witted, beer drinker with a stocky chest and short stomach, so was he. His friends saw him as a hurt, hard hero. Dingo looked at Gun, he could see the combative smile on his face. "I am here because I want a hug," Gun bellowed, in a sharp tone. He slammed his fist against Dingo's chest, with the force of 5437 flies. "I frigging love you, Dingo ."