Pete: “Let’s end this, Vegas. I need to find myself.”
Vegas didn’t even look up.
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He was holding two phones, a tablet, and a file. He signed something, nodded at someone on a call, and answered a text with the speed of a man who had mastered multitasking at a god-level.
Vegas: “Let me finish this file first, my love, then we will find together. Don’t worry.” Said in the calmest, sweetest tone imaginable.
Pete’s eye twitched.
Pete: “NO. I mean end THIS. Us. I’m breaking up with you.”
Vegas flipped a page.
Vegas: “Yes, yes, breakup, find self, very important. Two seconds, baby.”
Pete marched toward him.
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Pete: “Vegas! I’m serious!”
Finally, Vegas looked up. And instead of panic or fear, his expression was the same as someone who was told the weather forecast was slightly wrong.
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Vegas: “…Is this about the bodyguard?”
Pete threw his hands in the air.
Pete: “YES, IT’S ABOUT THE BODYGUARD! I just wanted to go buy ICE CREAM! Why did ten armed men follow me into the store?! The cashier thought I was a criminal!”
