Well. Wasn't this interesting? A real fun fest.
Ricky Roma took stock of the room, no hurry but not missing anything, not if he could help it. Not looking anything beyond self-assured. Hell, he knew what he was about. And you never let your guard down. Especially not with a group like this. What in - What in the hell was this nutjob operation?
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Ron was not sold.
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"It isn't cheese. It's the little details we allow to run our lives." He waved a hand dismissively. "You're a kid. You'll figure it out sooner or later." And if he didn't, hell. That was his loss.
"You want something else, though... What do kids even like these days?" No sense beating around the bush, here. And kids got impatient with that sort of thing, didn't they? Mike's kids did, anyway. Those kids liked, what, toy guns or something, but then they didn't hang around some fucking magic school.
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"Just because I don't have those lines on my forehead when I raise my eyebrows as much as the other fellow doesn't mean I'm a kid. You just... you just look old, so. But if you're letting details about cheese run your life, you got more worries than just that ( ... )
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Nineteen. A kid, is a kid, is a kid. He doesn't know whether Mike's are that old. He doesn't know how old any of Mike's are, but what the hell. A kid is a kid, and so on and so forth.
"Okay, what? You want me to buy you a beer, then?" He shrugs. "Settle down. You don't want to be mistaken for a kid, don't act like one. I'm telling you, that's the sort of tantrum-throwing shit kids pull. Well. kids and Moss, but that's close enough."
He paused a moment before added, "And when you swear like that? Doesn't help. Sounds like you're using the naughty words while your mother's back is turned. Just a helpful hint." Can he help it if the kid sounds young? "But you want one, I'll buy you a beer. A couple, if you're feeling adventurous."
Had the kid said something about flying? Sure. Of course he had. Damned magic school.
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"Yeah. I probably shouldn't have raised my voice like that," he responded in hopefully a mature attitude. The young man still appeared a bit miffed, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "And who is this Moss you keep talking about? I'm guessing it's a person, not the... well, vegetation."
Yes, Ron could be scientific if he'd like! Though really he chose that nicely broad word because he couldn't figure out if moss was a fungus or a bush or what.
"And curse like what? I just said 'damn'. That pause before it was for gall. I was pausing to get a hold on my gall. But no, I probably wouldn't say that word in front of my mother, either. Would you?"
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The kid was trying, anyway. It was kind of amusing, and a whole lot less irritating, in any case. "Nah, Moss might have the brains of some sort of vegetation, but what he is is a class-A, head-up-the-ass dick. Can't keep himself under control; I swear to God you glance at that guy, he explodes. Which is fine. Makes for free entertainment when there's nothing else to do. Tell him you fucked his wife, watch him try turn five shades of purple and try to tear the office apart."
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Roma almost laughed. Okay, okay. Couple more points to the kid. He didn't get any points for wit, but spirit counted for something. "Hey, if you're going to insist... I make no promises. However, if kid won't suit you and you aren't big on 'asshole' or 'jagoff,' you might want to give me something to call you."
"Look, I'll tell you straight off, you start talking about dark lords and robot aliens, I stop giving a fuck. Force of habit." That wasn't quite fair in this situation, though, so he considered for a moment. "That is, I don't have a clue on god's green earth what you're talking about, so if you're going to speak about that, you might want to think about explaining yourself."
Wait. Wait. Didn't get his wife...? Moss's wife? Oh. Oh, that was good. That was very good. Roma smirked. "You kidding me? I wouldn't touch his wife if you paid me... It would almost, ( ... )
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