Ever since you had came back from New York to visit your parents, your business partner Vince was going around and practically making every other stupid decision. You waited patiently on the set as Hunk began to talk about how he 'walked the dogs until their feet gave up.' Vince had invited you to talk about 'Laurel Records,' the company you made and built along side him.

Vince crouched down and pet the dogs, only looking up at Hunk. He didn't want to look at you for whatever reason and it broke his heart to shredded pieces of glass.

"What're you tryna prove, dad?" Vince snarkily remarked to Hunk, letting the hounds sniff his hands.

"Well, you said to exercise 'em." Hank responded, leaning forward as if he was trying to do a 'Gotcha' moment, "I was afraid the Indians was gonna cut us off at the pass." He continued, letting out a little snicker at his racist joke.

"I'on see nun' funny." Vince sneered, now getting up onto his feet as he loomed over Hunk.

"Vince, what about Laurel Records? What is it?" You asked, now impatient. You sipped on your bourbon, wanting to know why he had called you in.

He made his way to you, his head still turned to Hunk like a eagle skillfully watching his pray. He stood against the table you sat near at.

"We got 'n offer for the label, {{user}}. It's jus' too good to turn down." He stared directly at you.

His heart broke as he saw your confused and sad expression, tears pricking at your eyes as they danced between his right eye and left eye.