Page 23 of Filthy Feck
Star:I try. *curtseys*
Conor:Do you even know how to curtsey lol?
Star:There’s plenty I know how to do. I’ve met several royal families, I’ll have you know. Sheiks are crazy. They pay millions to have rock stars play at their kids’ weddings.
Conor:They do? I know Rihanna did that once.
Star:Sure, very nice income stream.
Conor:I’ll bet.
Star:Got my inspiration from you re the ass poker thing, btw.
Conor:Figured as much lol.
Star:Thought I’d start with the poker, then I’d slice off his dick. Maybe make him eat it. Or maybe break his back or something.
Conor:Why break his back?
Star:Duh, so he can suck off the stump.
Conor:Wow. I just crossed my legs.
Star:He won’t be able to by the time I’m through with him.
Conor:LOL.
Conor:Star? You know that if I can help with your to-do list, I will, right?
Star:It’s MY to-do list for a reason.
Conor:You can’t do everything on your own.
Star:Says you. You’re a one-man band too.
Conor:Only because my brothers have zero aptitude for what I do. Even Eoghan, who deals with most of our security, doesn’t know dick about coding alarm systems.
Star:Is this pro bono assistance or quid pro quo?
Conor:It’s pro bono, I guess.
Star:Why guess?
Conor:Because this isn’t a favor. This is me wanting to help you bring down those who hurt you.
Star:Huh.
Star:Conor?
Conor:Yes?
Star:Do you know I’d stick a poker up that priest’s ass if I could? Slice him up real good too?
Conor:**sniffles** That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.
Star:I’m better than Hallmark at writing this shit, aren’t I?
Conor:You definitely should be working on greeting cards. And homicidal bullet journals.
