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"And then I said, well, if the arms race fits, wear it," Scar chuckles. Maureen narrowed her eyes. The spread of takeout before them, Joesph smiling, Scar smiling. What the hell? "Why are you looking so skeptical, Maureen?" Scar asked, his brow quirked up. She pushed her plate away. Joesph narrowed his eyes, smelling the impending drama. "Whats your deal?" He looked off to the side. "1 million dollars for 25 % stake in my company. It sounds like a lot but—" "You know what the hell I mean, Scar." He looked down at his plate remorsefully. "No. I really don't. You know what else I don't know? Why we can never have a peaceful meal." "Because you're full of bullshit and it's not appetizing," she said flatly. He nodded almost in agreement. "Fair enough. What do you want?" "Whats with
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