Guuu not coup

The army, they're trying to mount a coup!, the middle-aged man in tattered sports Jacket said, dipping a slice of cucumber in salt and sipping his whiskey.

Sir, you're kidding, they don't have a coup. Coup, you say, they can't even get right guu! (shit), she said. She took a big swig of her whiskey glass, biting into the shards of ice.

You must have...encountered them? How much contact to you have with them, generally? he said, looking at her. She had nice eyes, though the heavy makeup hid that. I can't be getting beer goggles this quick.

Let's...lets put it this way. If an enemy force recruited a couple of us, a couple of dozen of us, we would have zero chance of winning. Those fat lazy bastards can't keep anything inside them, they cry a lot, it's all for the show sir, they're hollow and sad, it's nothing in there, she said her eyes intently on the plate.

Hmmm, he said, I didn't know it was like that.