But then, there came the stipulations. Groaning a little, Jack threw his hands up in the air as she started to list them off one by one, his jaw dropping slightly at the fucking audacity that she seemed to have. Coughing a little at the end of it, he looked a little like a fish out of water, uncertain of exactly where to start with this one. There were so many fucking damned things to point out. "Well, for one thing, your parents must have fucking HATED your ass to name you that. I mean... juijitsu... or whatever? That's some serious harshness there. I'd put my foot in my parent's ass if they gave me a name like moon unit or that shit. Jesus fucking...CHRIST."
"For another thing, Suzy, you can't up the ante on your side of the bet while you lower what I win. That's not how betting works, toots. For one thing, a good lapdance at the local strip club will run you about $50 or so. And I know that fucking college text book of yours probably costs several goddamned times that. So believe me when I tell you, you're certainly making out like a bandit from this financially already. But then you want me to actually be nice to you, AND stop calling you nicknames, both of which are fucking priceless. No, fucking way."
Jack held out his hand. "Gimme the goddamned flask back, toots, it's clear we ain't betting here. Not unless you actually bet what you're asking for, like making out in JUST your panties, or a blowjob, or some shit like that..." Jack said with a sigh, shaking his head violently. He motioned for her to give the flask back as well, knowing that she wouldn't actually take him up on his bet, and hopefully would just let the whole goddamned apology thing go.