“I can pay for my own shit.” “I know,” he said, like someone would say obviously. He toyed with their hand the same way a lover would. “I didn’t need a Satanic coupon, Eli.” He leaned toward them, grinning an inch from their mouth. “What crawled up your ass and turned you into Mother fuckin’ Theresa—” They palmed his face and shoved him away, muffling triumphant laughter.
