“Do we trust the elected representative?” Banks sips his beer. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure either of you should trust me not to ask her out. Alone.” “Same,” Gabe says, his expression saying he holds the winning lottery ticket in his giant mitts. “I’d cook a pot roast for her.”
Gabe gives off big Drax vibes from Guardians of the Galaxy. I adore it.
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