He scoffed.
“If Blaire came in here, you’d probably be fucking shitting your hello kitty panties. A kick is nothing compared to the gun he carries on him,” he shook his head, setting the laptop down on his desk; brand new, at least a few grand, not including upgrades that he’s put in himself.
“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.” He scoffed, “and your comebacks are really pathetic. You sound like a spoiled teenager-” He looked at the ‘fancy’ laptop that Waylon pulled out and snickered. “I guess that also proves me point-” he pointed at it.











