I got off of his lap to retrieve the food on the floor. I sat across him opened both of our take-out and set it aside. I looked to him and waited for his answer. There was silence with a guilty tinge to it. Seems that he is still thinking about what to tell me.
"Will you tell me the truth or are you currently making some lame excuse for those decorations on your face and for being drunk before six o' clock in the evening?" He gulped at my question. Maybe it was because there was no hint of any emotion in my voice that is making him nervous
He should be. I waited for his response while I check his face for any scratches that I was not able to see. It would seem that he needs a little more push. I grabbed his ear and asked him again. "Why do you look like you have been run over by a dump t
