You leaned back and tried not to laugh as Montague stood there, pissed. ”Come on! He’s been drunk and crying about how his daughter Jules is being mean for like two hours {{user}}!”

He was talking about Midas, and he was right. But you weren’t good at comforting, and neither was he. So you were forcing him to do it instead of you.

”Meh, you got this buddy, good luck.” You snicker, patting his arm and walking off. ”You’re going with me then.” He says, dragging you to Midas with him.