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More servers swarm me, plucking at my silverware and replacing it with a fresh setting with the speed of a Formula One pit stop team.
“And anyone who’s a complete cunt?” I recoil at the sound of that word. He glances sideways and smirks. “I mean, anyone who’s a complete…” He waves a hand around. “Canada goose?”
“I thought he died from a bleed on the brain?” “He did. I shot him in the head and then his brain bled.”
“You’re so far up Rafe’s ass you can see his fucking tonsils.”
“Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”
“Ham and pineapple, please.” He wrinkles his nose. “Fucking hell. Is it too late to give you back?”
“I’ve got something better than sex.” “I doubt it,” I mutter. Laughing, he tips the bag and a mountain of candy falls onto the bed. I rake it through my fingers, picking up different bars and boxes, confused. There’s nothing I recognize. “What’s all this?” “British candy. Picked it up for you when I was tying up my loose ends in London. Thought you might like to try some things you can’t find in the local Walmart.”