Easton lets out a deep sigh as we entered in his New York Penthouse, slamming the door behind us. He bites his lips, shake his head, and roll his eyes out, as he muttered, This is bullshit. He then turn to face me. Don't make yourself feel at home here, and keep your hands off my stuff. Oh, also... I want you to behave yourself or else your fucking dead to me. Your guests aren't welcome here too. He sighed. I hope I made myself damn clear.
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