"I do not like yelling. I just like yelling at you," Gideon said, leaning over the back of the couch to drop a cold beer on Heath's stomach, and then handing one to Merton and Orsino if they wanted them. "Food will be here in about thirty minutes."
He ambled over to the overstuffed loveseat, and looked at the telly. "What the hell are we watching, Merton?"