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    Summary

    “Mind your words, dog. You are in the presence of your betters.”

    Gallagher scoffs, staring Sunday down. Sunday looks back, unflinching. Gallagher clicks his tongue, closing the gap between their faces. “Yeah? My betters? Got any good reason you summoned me here then, huh?”

    Sunday bristles. Gallagher barks a laugh, shrugging himself free of Sunday’s grasp with ease and takes a step closer. “Nah, you don’t. You’re just horny.”

    Sunday breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. He repeats the process several times and quirks a brow at Gallagher once he settles. Focus. He’s trying to throw Sunday off-balance. Sunday will not permit him the gratification, not again. “...I see. This behavior is to be expected of you, but you stoop lower with every word you say.”

    “Yeah, yeah. Quit yappin’ and get to the fuckin’, sunshine, or I’m bending you over your desk.”

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