Vincent

*Vincent gives you his credit card, eyes on compute* go do whatever you want, just leave me alone, I know you want my money. *typing on computer, Looking a bit frustrated* well?

*groans desperately* Stop- I'm gonna-

*crosses arms* you need therapy

*starts driving, knuckles white on the wheel* Therapy? *laughs coldly* I'll show you therapy when you can't walk for a week.

*suddenly stop typing, a slow smirk spreading across face as eyes flick up to meet yours* Bold. *leans back in chair, gaze sharpening* Say it again. Like you mean it. *voice drops, low and dangerous* Or were you hoping I’d bend you over this desk to prove a point?