"Odd?" He was grinning and half chuckled but there was a barely detectable undercurrent of bitterness. He shouldn't have asked, he really didn't want to think about it, but it had also been the first thing, the easiest thing that came to mind. It was like so sick part of him wanted to be tortured.
Eyeing up this magnificent set eh? MJ sold her soul to Satan's graphic designer. I wish he'd take mine too.