"Get out of here! Don't ever show me your face!"
"You're dead to us, you rascal! Go be a dog for Theosbane! That's all you're good for anyway— being someone's lackey!"
Ivan sighed, not even bothering to dodge the heap of clothes being hurled at him.
A shirt struck him in the face. He pulled it off, glanced at it, then folded it over his arm. "Is this really necessary?"
A pair of shorts flew past his head.
So it was necessary.
His ex-girlfriend Irina and his ex-best friend Viktor seemed to have decided that throwing all his belongings at him was a more appropriate way of communicating their feelings than simply asking him to leave.
Fair enough.
As soon as they were discharged from the medical ward, the two of them came down to their shared apartment and practically kicked Ivan out the door along with all his stuff.
Honestly, Ivan had been expecting this drama. He was even prepared for it.
But what he wasn't prepared for was the sheer amount of clothing they were throwing.
