“Most of them are quite rich,” Sampson mimicked before he could help himself, drawling the words with a stupid affectation, as the sentence deserved. Did Zaid actually think he was being observant with that remark? Did he think Sampson did not make a note of those rich people everyday of his shitty, shitty life?
Jesus Christ, were all the gardeners so dense? It was like he’d been hit over the head with a shovel one too many times, and now all he had left was dissipating champagne bubbles for a brain and that stupid smarmy smile on his face!
“Oh fuck off, Ragge,” he retorted, because the combination of both had fast burned through his patience and he suddenly despised himself for wasting his evening off enduring such a happy dunce. He would rather be miserable with himself. In case Ragge thought he was joking, Sampson scowled and added belligerently, “I mean it. Fuck off.”
Jesus Christ, were all the gardeners so dense? It was like he’d been hit over the head with a shovel one too many times, and now all he had left was dissipating champagne bubbles for a brain and that stupid smarmy smile on his face!
“Oh fuck off, Ragge,” he retorted, because the combination of both had fast burned through his patience and he suddenly despised himself for wasting his evening off enduring such a happy dunce. He would rather be miserable with himself. In case Ragge thought he was joking, Sampson scowled and added belligerently, “I mean it. Fuck off.”