So Slav was going to be petulant. Fuck. Gor had been better about this but he wasn't going to say it out loud. He followed Slav and reached out to grab his arm, meaning to turn the middlest to face him, "I don't want you guys out of my hair... What ever I really want, I don't know. I'm lost, I admit that. And I'm not handing over the businesses... At least not Bianca's. Gor might be want to do something with that some day. I don't know. He's the math whiz...
But Louis? Yeah. Sell it. And do you know what we're going to do with the money from it? Buy you your own garage, start a business." That would get Slav a lot of independence. A purpose even. He could do that thing he loved for the rest of his life because he was good at it. His focus went entirely to cars and he could make it work.
"This... Is not why I came to find you. This is," he reached into one of the cargo pockets on his pants and produced the perfectly preserved model car, Slav's first. It wasn't dusty or broken or messed up in any other possible way.