"Every gun makes its own tune."

For as explicitly transactional Blondie and Tuco's erratic partnership is on a base level, it's fascinating to see these individuals - Angel Eyes included - get intermittently assimilated by the war all around them, regardless of feigned affiliation, while enacting their respective drifter roles in pursuit of buried treasure. Throwaway commentary on the wanton carnage that besets this desolate landscape ("I've never seen so many men wasted so badly") is interspersed with more pointed -isms of the slicker, fatalistic ilk the Blondie archetype's known for imparting between puffs on his umpteenth cigarillo. Remain smart enough to know that talking won't save you, and keep abreast of precisely who you are per Blondie's dual-class crash course, Mexican standoff optional.