"You did good things to the place. It's a little pink for me, but to each their own."
I stay on the ground not moving as he continues to survey the kitchen almost like he's reminiscing. Unfortunately, it doesn't last long. At least not long enough for me to make it to the security panel and hit the panic button.
"I'm gonna need you to come with me," he says, his attention finally returning to me.
I shake my head. "That's not a good idea."
He sighs. "That's too bad, you looked nice. I thought I'd be able to do this without a lot of violence."
Violence?
He drops the hand from behind his back and I wish he hadn't. What is it with adults and the overuse of guns? I've seen so many the last two weeks, my reaction to another is totally out of character. Meaning I do nothing. There's no scre
