"I couldn't hear it over the sweetcheeks," she replies flatly. She finishes off most of the glass, but there's still a few sips in there. Here, Church, have her pity water.
"Don't ever call me that crap again if you want to keep your balls." The sandwich helps to temper that threat, but only barely. It's not steak, though it'll have to do since she sure as hell isn't making anything.
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...He might come back with two of them. Because he's fucking nice like that. "And not the honeybuns?"
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