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Summary
“What’s goin’ on?” Jake asks, jabbing his fingers hard enough into Coyote’s ribs to prompt an inelegant yelp and open up enough space for him to jam his head into the conspiratorial knot of their friends.
“Trying to figure out the odds of Bradshaw being down to shave off the mustache for two hundred dollars,” Nat tells him, helpfully; if Bradley didn’t know better, he’d swear there was a note of mischief in her voice.
Jake visibly balks.
“Absolutely not,” he says, in a horrified tone.
“That’s what I said,” Fanboy says, over-serious. “No way he’s doing it for less than four hundred.”
or; Jake's always pretending to hate Bradley's mustache. Bradley's pretty sure he can prove otherwise.