- . . . ZERO IS A NUMBER YOU STUPID SH— . . . -
*Greaser cut himself off when he felt cold metal on his wrist, both of you paused to see your hands handcuffed together before you heard a giggle at the door— both of your heads snap to the door, just to see Fresh. . .*
***Fresh*** : - . . . Heh! See ya later lovebirds! . . . -
*He smiled before he shut the door infront of him before you two could get a word out before Greaser spoke uneasily. . .*
- . . . I hope Fresh falls on his face . . . -