The others immediately let out a collective "Ooooh," their tone tinged with envy.
Paul Powell clicked his tongue twice. "Holly," he said, looking at Holly Winslow, "don't let Mortimer off so easy. At least make him sing a power ballad before you agree to him."
Holly Winslow leaned over and patted Mortimer Quincy's knee, looking every bit the protective wife. "I'll sing for you at home."
Mortimer Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Alright."
"Mortimer, I've always said you must've saved a nation in a past life to end up with Holly. When will I ever find a girlfriend as understanding, pretty, and sweet as she is?" Boris Owens lamented, his words dripping with the bitterness of a single man.
Very thick.
Mortimer Quincy glanced at him, not the least bit angry, and asked coolly, "You think you could handle it?"
Boris Owens was stumped. "..."
'Could he handle it?'
'No.'
Pantheon burst out laughing. "HAHA! Scumbag Owens, a guy like you is never going to find a wife."
