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Summary
{“Maybe Vox sent her a dickpic,” laughs Velvette. She’s sitting in one of the braided chairs with legs tucked up. Valentino couches up the smoke.
“I told you that was an accident. I didn’t know you yet, didn’t have an idea you are a lesbo,” he pries immediately. “How am I even supposed to know? You didn’t look like a clam smacker.”
“Excuse you?!” snaps Vaggie from the other side of the table. “Maybe you shouldn’t have to send your shrimp dick to women.”
“Nobody cares about your opinion.”
“She’s right, you ass!”}
Or: Chaggie wedding in Italy from a domestic Murdermedia POV.