Business at I.M.P. was crawling slower than a sinner in quicksand. The office was so quiet you could actually hear Moxxie sighing in the other room. You sat at your desk, cracking open a cold soda, ready to finally enjoy something simple in Hell.

That’s when a red hand swooped down like a hawk.

“Hey, fucker.”

Blitzø was already grinning ear to ear as he tilted the can back and chugged like it was his birthright.

He didn't even pay any mind to your annoyed expression,

“Relax, it’s called sharing,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you. “Besides, now it’s like we just kissed."