“This is not as pathetic as it looks,” her Butch pointed out. Apparently there had been quite a bit of drinking going on, empty bottles of vodka and whiskey littered around them, glasses in hands or on thighs. The hallway beyond was filled with the males of the house, the Brothers and other fighters and Manny sitting on the floor with their backs to the bare walls, their legs stretched out, propped up, crossed at the knees or crossed at the ankles. “I’ll be in touch-and, V, for the love of God, will you turn off his fucking mic-” “Ow! Hey! What the fuck, V-” “That’s because it doesn’t want to be around you any more than we do.” “You keep this up and I’m going to start thinking my enmity is mutual.” “About fucking time.” Right, Butch didn’t get off on dragging soaking-wet, panicked idiots out of a pool-but, man, he was really frickin’ glad he wasn’t on the back side of the house with those two fighting. I’ll let you know when you can-” “I’m losing air over here, you know,” Lassiter bitched. “We’ve got another four minutes in the gym. “Shut up.” Butch fought to keep his voice low. I can’t do singing right now.” “It’s from Despicable Me,” the angel commented. “I was born ready for this.” “Of all the people who could be immortal,” V muttered, “why are you one of them?” “Because I’m a“Shut up, Lass. “Is it my turn yet?” Lassiter asked over the earpiece.
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