"I can't ******** believe this,"Craig O'Laurrel chewed at his cigar in agitation,glaring at the piece of paper sitting on his desk."Can you believe this?"
"Not a word of it,"Larry sighed,not in the mood to argue with his employer."Maybe it's a sign."
"That the monarchy hates me and doesn't want me to marry into them,maybe,"he took a long drag off the cancerous stick,exhaling the cloud of smoke slowly."Do you think I can just sent the centaurs a card or money-order or something?"
"No way.They're be twice as pissed at that,"he looked up at the older man,finally noticing the dark circles and light wisps of hair."How are ya,Craig?"
"What cha mean 'how are ya'?"he studied the man in front of him,looking at the guarded expression in deep regard.
"You look tired.Have you and the future misses been fighting or something?"he leaned forward,trying to make sure that it was just the shadow of the bowler's hat that was causing such a dark spot on the man's forehead.
"Yeah,we've fought.So what?Everyone fights with their others.Right?"he pulled his hat down a little farther,swallowing a wince as it hit the bruise from the night before.Damn.
"Yeah,but have your's been kinda violent or somethin'?"his expression changed to one of worry and sympathy.
"None of your damn business,"Craig glared,hating the pity he saw in the other man's eyes."Now if you'll excuse me,I think I'm going to go see my darling fiancé and see what we are to do tomorrow,"he stood quickly,wincing lightly as his thigh brushed the desk.It couldn't be that bad,could it?He stalked quickly from the room.As he looked back,he thought he could hear Larry say "Be careful of the woman."
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