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Grey Evening Climber
160092
>Remind the bitch who you are.
Your laugh starts low in your throat, all growl and broken glass, by by the time it reaches a full roar it's so loud that you can't even hear him trying to cut in. It echoes off the walls of the hallway, off the high vaulted warehouse ceilings. It drowns out the worried whines of the guards posted at the stairwell, the constant creaking of the cranes outside the tall, small-paneled windows.
You don't come down until you're good and ready. The other end of the line is stony silence. You wipe your eyes, with a sigh that you hope perfectly evokes the gesture. "Oh, Ne," you say, "who the fuck do you think you are."
"No, actually," you cut in, before he can respond, "more importantly, who do you think I am. Hm? Am I your babysitter?"
He finally gets a word in edgewise. "You set the fucking Sukebun on me-"
You don't let him speak long, but it's not your fault. You can't help the bark of laughter his bullshit conjures up. "Me? I didn't fucking do anything. I bought a gun from you, and you gave it to the wrong person, because you're a stupid little piece of shit who can't do anything right. You're calling me to whine about the domino effect of one of your own fuckups?"
"As if you didn't orchestrate it all," he hisses back. "As if it's a COINCIDENCE that you had that hairless bitch over to your place the night after -"
"Ooh, careful, Ne. I've started to like her better than you, honestly." Your acrylics need filled. You'll call your nail stylist tomorrow. "Keep yourself useful, Ne, and don't get full of yourself, or I might throw you away."
>A. Keep control of the entire situation. Hang up on him.
>B. See what he has to say in reply.
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