"So, about that date." He said it so casually, an easy grin gracing their lips. "Don't tell me you forgot about it now."
It takes practice and the dedication of a loyalist to truly master the art of self sabotage by acts of social mutilation. Another tack nicks the board. Another unsuccessful date executed by yours truly, matter of fact, blurred and crammed besides several other tacks pressed into the metaphorical cork board — each tack a representation of how many he’s scored today like he was a medalist in scoring skirts and these were his awards, but they were just tacks. They bore no name, no significance, nothing stands out, nothing meant anything to him, and the board kept piling up in tacks, and more tacks, and each time his hand cups a woman’s hip another tack, and each time he spreads his palm underneath her dress another tack—
That smile he wore was always the same.
“ Me? Forget about you, Yuri? Never. ” He smiles. “ I waaaas... Just a little caught up in something, that’s all. ” The click of heels echo down the hall and he reeks of mingling perfumes. “ Look, i’ll make it up to you, how’s that sound? ” Another tack.