8

"This is my house, fuckface," Drax says, unsuccessfully trying to threaten you with his vape pen like it's a lit cigarette. "Just calm your shit down and watch this stuff for two nights. We'll just move some stuff through, not a lot. It won't be a problem, it'll be chill."

"So is this going to be a regular thing or—"

"Did I say you could fucking ask questions?" Drax snaps. "Get this shit cleaned up. Now. I'll send Todd back tomorrow to fix the door so no one notices how you live like a fucking animal. We're going to move things through here every few weeks, whatever. And if you ever, ever think of stealing any of it, you're fucking dead, do you hear me?"

"Fine." But I will absolutely rat on Drax the moment there's a hint of police attention.

"Okay, fine." This isn't worth escalating into a fight that Drax will lose permanently.

"Cut me in for a percentage. That's the only way this is happening." I'll have to impress him with what I know about moving product.

"Drax, if you don't get your shit out my house right now, I'm going to feed you those watches."

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