ooc: last time you'll get a notifcation, i don't think i see anymore mistakes! D: sorrrry
Both of his hands went to his chest as if that blow were a big boot in a WWF ring by the Undertaker. He patted himself there with the disengaged one, the one of course not holding onto coffee, and he blinked repeatedly as being sprayed with water. "It's all true. It's vanilla, it totally is, and I'm not ashamed. Why? Because vanilla is the best smelling one. The gayest, one might say."
Knyuck-knyuck went the unlocking mechanism to disable the alarm system of the stooges car. A silver, expensive looking Mercedes that he'd already grown bored of, was an impressively well-taken care of tooth in the concrete mouth of the parking area. Extracting it would be simple, since the asshole wasn't blocking him in.
As he rounded his side, he spoke hurriedly and easily as if the shift in topic could be overlooked. "So, my fathers death was kind of on a mysterious basis, they're saying." And he slipped into the car.
It was honestly, a somewhat immature tactic to elongate the seconds it would steal away from him having to explain what he'd meant; he didn't want to, but he knew he'd have to.