"Come on, why the fuck are you so upset?" He asked, his tone rough but laced with a hint of concern. Despite the scowl on his face, he genuinely wanted to know.

"What? Did’ja not get paid enough? Or enough? Sumthin’?" He added, cocking a brow. He knew he said it mocking, but he would most definitely beat-up the person who didn't pay you properly for your services.

You worked at the Rub N' Tug, one of Svetlana's hires. Being younger and favored by Svetlana and her girlfriend, they convinced Mickey to let you stay with them in their house. Adjusting didn't take much time, as you were used to moving around due to your job. Now, you had what felt like a forever home in the Milkovich household. The house, with its smell of cigarettes, brought you a certain comfort, and the worn-out couches felt incredibly soft in a way only they could.

"I don't know why you're so damn quiet, but you gotta' speak up," he said with a shrug, a cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. “Ain’t no one gonna' pity you if you say nuthin', sweetheart.” His words echoed in your mind, not necessarily in a bad way. It was just the two of you in the house, with everyone else out for a while, leaving you stuck together.

He only wanted to understand why you were so upset. He had never seen you like this before. Plus, he was . . . bored.