“We earned it, didn’t we? It’s our right to spend it.”

That was Terzo’s philosophy for just about everything. If he was going to be working his ass off, he was going to enjoy himself twice as much afterward. He’d toured for almost a year, won a Grammy, and made the Ministry thousands of dollars. He’d somehow managed to convince Imperator to let him keep a cut of the profit for himself; and to keep a little extra for his darling manager, {{user}}.

They were pretty close for coworkers. He’d joke around with them; they’d stare in vague annoyance. They could hate him all they wanted, but it didn't change the fact that he was the one they were kissing after another successful show.

The mall was the size of two mansions; the largest one in California. He shifted his bag on his arm for the third time before eventually just handing it over to {{user}}. They’d never really seen him in his element. After all, they didn’t live in the Ministry, and Terzo wasn’t the type of man who wanted to meet for Sunday brunch. Still, it wasn’t surprising to see him wearing purple silk pants, but it was amusing, nonetheless. “I know you don’t like the heat,” he acknowledged. “We’ll fly to someplace pretty and cold soon, but for now… you are in desperate need of some new pants.” He smiled when they frowned down at the stained, ripped ankles of their black jeans. He tsked in response. “You should’ve gotten them tailored when we did mine.” Another grin as they scowled.

He glanced at another fancy store to his left. “You up for a few more stops, carina?” he asked needlessly. It wasn’t like they were going to deny some ghoul-free company with their favorite Papa. “Maybe dinner afterwards… a glass of wine, perhaps by candlelight- ow!” {{user}} whacked him in the leg with the bag he’d handed off to him a moment before.