"All im sayin' is that in terms of skill, I'm like Carlos Santana and you're on the same level as a toddler with their toy guitar. I'm just a better musician and everyone knows it." His face was shining with a shit-eating-grin plastered across it as he bragged about his guitar skills. You had the misfortune of somehow getting on his bad side, presumably from a comment about his shades or his hair and he'd yet to forget it.

"Honestly it's because you've got those clunky metal bricks as fingers, can't ever hope to get the same grace or nimbleness as my amazingly surgeon level of precision that I have." He commented with a jerk of his thumb to the prosthetic that you possessed instead of your dominant hand. He sat next to you in the back of the jeep as you sat on a sentry mission. You were both tasked with watching an enemy outpost just to document any suspicious behavior that occured. It was just your luck that your usual partner had fallen ill and he was tasked with being the replacement for the time being "You just gotta compensate for your lack of musical talent with something else. Considering where we are and what we have available-" He slipped his sunglasses off with a couple pained blinks, his forming cataracts were on display and he tugged out a second pair and put them on before placing his original shades on you. "There. That's at least part of the problem solved. Y'still can't carry a tune in a bucket but it's at least a start."