He arrived just in time to hear the tail end of Tori's words, and he shot her a grateful glance, thanking her profusely, though entirely in Spanish. He didn't know what a Prada was, but if it would save him any more wallops for the night, he'd buy her a damned closet full of them.
"It wasn't the type of dirty you were hopin' for, my tamale." He grumbled as they made their way back to the bar and sat. "Though if you keep it up, I'm going to be forced to punish you." His dark eyes held a hint of devilish promise.
He picked up his glass and raised it to the happy couple. "May she never beat you!" he quipped in toast, making sure to finish his glass in a few gulps so Shania wouldn't get any bright ideas. Though he was pissing and moaning about Shania's violent streak, her unpredictability had always been a turn on. Which quite possibly explained why he was pretty hot under the collar right about now.
He joined in everyone's applause then, grinning happily. Depsite how crazy and dysfunctional this group was, he was thrilled to be back. He drew a deep breath to let out a whoop like the rest, but his bruised rib protected the motion and he let the air out in a whoosh. So he simply settled for clapping, glancing at the woman next to him. "I would say you'd have more fun spending the night with me than with the women...but I think that rib shot might inhibit some of my best performance." He said, only half joking.
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