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A Worse Idea 95

Anne was beaming when she walked into Prometheus’s garage.

Both Prometheus and Sharise were sitting there — Prometheus checking up on the jizz-like shit because he still hadn’t figured it out, while Sharise mocked him for still even bothering with it.

Anne drove into the garage, got of her car, and said, “Hey guys!”

Both Prometheus and Sharise gave her odd looks.

“What?” Anne asked. “Do I have something on my…” She looked down, saw that there was no blood on her clothes, then looked back up. “What?”

“You’re just very awake, that’s all,” Prometheus said.

“Usually you come in here looking like a zombie raccoon.” Sharise, remembering how Prometheus had once threatened her with an HR training session, added, “No offense.”

“None taken?” Anne thought about it for a second. “No, you know what, I am a little offended but it’s no big deal. You guys want me to work on one of Prometheus’s helmets? Figure out if the jizz has moved? Build a motorcycle?”

“You still look kinda like a raccoon, with the baggy eyes and everything,” Sharise said. “But now you’re an excitable raccoon. Less zombified, more coked up.” Sharise thought about HR. “No offense.”

“First of all you’re ridiculous,” Anne said. “Second of all, I’m ready for anything, even your meaningless insults!” She gave a wide grin and put her hands on her hips.

A part of Prometheus glad to see Anne this way. Another part of him wondered what could’ve made her so happy.

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