"Santa, the Easter Bunny and your clit are more likely to come." He sparks up a joint, takes a deep drag. "Yeah, the one that says Google Chrome under it."
"Yeah." He drops himself across D's expensive leather couch, his feet dangling out of its end. "It gives you an excuse once you completely wreck it again."
"Is Internet Explorer bad?"
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Huffs. "I probably lost you at Angry Birds, didn't I? Fucking blondes..."
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"At least I know what it is. And I've been running those scans and there's no viruses. That's a start right?"
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