DROP SIXTY-THREE
Upstairs, the mess had died down. George had shot the s**t out of the machine of death that spat out ball-bearings, and he was now politely ushering owners out.
Nicomedes stood in the mess of it all with his ridiculous pimp-suit.
“Did you do this?” he hissed at Hector, pointing at the destroyed machine behind him.
Hector acted shocked. “Me? I can’t even change my alarm clock’s music.”
Nicomedes looked like a dog that just needed something to bite on. Hard. “I’ll find out who, and I’ll rip their d***s off with my bare hands!”
“That’s, a) very disgusting, and b) very gay of you.” Hector tried to keep his expression flat.
George snickered at that but he choked it down in an instant, and he carried on with his duties.
“Shut the f**k up,” Nicomedes spat and kicked the r
