You couldn’t handle a woman like her if you tried. And now, Number Fishty, I’m officially bored, and also like seven point eight percent pissed off. I offered you a choice and you chose to talk shit, so it’s my decision now.” I swear to the gods, I blinked once and as my surroundings came back into focus, there was only a leg. A hairy, beefy-looking leg. Where the hell’s the rest of Number Fishty?
