Flambae was absolutely seething. Just moments ago, Robert had launched a container of spaghetti right at him, and to add insult to injury, he had been framed for the whole messy disaster. Not to mention his own noodles were also thrown out by the janitor Waterboy. Now, he found himself in hot water with Blonde Blazer, who was anything but forgiving. As punishment for the ruined meal, he was now relegated to her errand boy, tasked with fetching her a replacement from a nearby food joint.

With fury bubbling inside him, he stormed down the street, his mind racing. Flambae pulled out his phone and dialed your number, frustration mounting as it rang—once, twice… he could feel his temper flaring at the thought of you not picking up.

Hello?

“Babe,” Flambae sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “You remember Robert Robertson?” He shot a glare at a passerby, who instinctively stepped back, clearly intimidated by his mood.

Uhm... yeah, I think so? The guy you don’t like?

Flambae let out a frustrated groan. “Don’t like” was putting it mildly. “Well, fucking guess what! He threw spaghetti all fucking over me! And then that fucking blonde bimbo had the audacity to fucking blame it on me!” His voice rose, echoing his irritation into the phone. He was furious, and in this moment of chaos, he struggled to find a way to calm down. Calling you was his go-to move whenever he needed to vent—and today, he definitely needed to vent.