Mason gave the idea a few seconds of thought before shrugging his mouth. “Always up for a challenge,” he said. Hotel banishment was as good a hobby as any. As long as he didn’t step too far over the line and get himself arrested. Getting tossed back in prison definitely wasn’t the goal. “Hilton’s are snooty ponces. Probably throw anyone out for any little fucking thing. Your idea, so if you wanna see it, you’re paying for the room.”
Middle fingers or the V sign were as normal as pointing an index finger at someone. He took that, as well as her comment about the hat, with fondness and a laugh. “Not my fault I can’t understand you when you’re drowning. All those surfing trips should’ve taught you that.”
What was preferred, being filmed when he didn’t know about it, or agreeing and knowing fully well what he was in for? Neither option was his favorite and it was clear by the sly look on his cousin’s face that talking his way out of it wasn’t going to be easy. Unless… “Get plenty of my own hits in.” Play dumb and take it literally. While it wasn’t wholly an act, playing up the stupidity might get her annoyed enough to follow the change of subject. “They’re hard ones, too. Knock fuckers out, usually.”
Mason tapped his feet on the floor, a clear sign of how right she was. “I can do stupid shit without wearing one of those dumbass metallic paper hats.” With their choking rubber strings that never fit him properly and always snapped and caught him in the eye. Fucking hated those things. “Don’t need glasses either.” He could be just as stubborn. Nor did he attempt to counter Ren’s piece about being his favorite.
“No, you didn’t,” he argued out of habit. Cade and Owen would be celebrating. He wanted to believe that. They didn’t have much choice other than to mope about it and there was no damn point in wasting time doing that. A small smiled raised the corners of his mouth. “Wouldn’t be a party without getting thrown out of a pub.”
It was a good thing Ren missed because Mason’s reaction time to fend off the bottle was much too slow. He looked at it like it was going to jump up off the floor and hit him. Turning back to her, he frowned. “The fuck? You missed.” Mason went for the magazines stacked on the table beside him and flung a couple over at her. “Don’t throw shit at me.” Especially glass. Fucking hell, the girl’s temper. “Bet you won’t remember that, either.”
“Eh, fuck surprises. After that bottle you shot across the room, you might not get ‘em now.” His own threat didn’t hold much weight either. “And you say you’re gonna tell me, but I know you won’t.”