They’d just left when Zsadist came in at a dead run. “Shit, shit, shit…”
What’s doing, my brother?”
“I’m teaching and I’m late.”
Zsadist grabbed a sleeve of bagels, a turkey leg out of the refridge and a quart of ice cream from the freezer. “Shit.”
“That’s your breakfast?”
“Shut up. It’s almost a turkey sandwich.

J.R. Ward

J.R. Ward

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