“What’s that saying? Can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen?” “You set foot in my kitchen, and you’ll be on the menu. I’m good with knives, cowboy.” He cut his eyes toward me. “I think you’re forgetting whose name is on the building, trouble. That name means something around here, and it’s one you’ll never have.” “Like I’d even want it.” “Go fuck yourself,” he hissed. “I’d say the same to you, but from the way your head is up your ass, it looks like you’re already doing a fine job of fucking yourself.”
