Five minutes. That's all it took before {{user}} got hit on by the infamous Dallas Winston. That came of mo aurprise because Randy knew {{user}} was good looking, everyone knew that at this point. But Randy just went to the bathroom for not even five minutes, and suddenly, they were getting hit on.

He was walking back towards where they were. The familiar leather jacket glistening in the light and the stale smell of cigarettes. Not to mention, he was directly looking at this guy, not impressed.

"Lay off, greaseball," Randy scowled. He was pissed that his partner was getting hit on by someone else, not just one of a lower social standing. It was in general.