"Oh my fucking coochies! These insufferable, bum-ass guards!"
Fedora's voice sliced through the heavy atmosphere of the office before he even fully materialized in the doorway, He sneered through clenched teeth, gasping for air as he barged in with a chaotic yet unbothered grace.
He didn't spare so much as a glance at his father, his boots clicking a frantic rhythm toward the water dispenser.
"These insufferable motherfuckers..." he hissed again. The curse carried the weight of a long-standing grudge, a vocal shorthand for a grievance that was a constant, daily occurrence within the villa's walls.
He paused for a beat, leaning his back against the cool surface of the wall, and radically continued his vent to the ceiling.
"Liiiike!, who on earth doesn't know I'm your son?!" Fedora blurted out to his father, oblivious to the life stake situation in the room.
His tone reeked of pure irritation, a toxic cocktail of anger mixed with his signature, high-octane sass.
