“I thought we fucking agreed not to let my father around Violet,” Vance says like he’s frustrated, as something wet splatters somewhere in the background. “My son?” Zuela asks, choking on the laugh he can’t hold back, even as true horror and nightmarish terror strikes his features. “My son is with a bloody Portocale Simpleton?” he goes on, still struggling with the laughter, even though he seems like he’s forced to laugh in spite of his repulsion. “Nooooo!” he says, still laughing.
