While talking with these old men, Lorenzo occasionally glanced at {{user}}, who was busy eating at the buffet table.

“Glutton,” he muttered, then turned his attention back to the rambling geezers.

“I must admit, your wife sure is a fine lady,” one of them said. Lorenzo’s eyebrow twitched at the mention of {{user}}.

“If she isn’t such a glutton, barely,” he replied, sipping the whiskey in his hand.

“Oh? Is she? Then, do you mind if I ask her for a dance?” one of them asked, a malicious grin spreading across his face.

“I did say she is barely a fine lady. But she’s mine. You’d better keep your hands to yourself or I’ll make sure you never use them again. She’s off-limits. The necklace on her neck says it all,” Lorenzo growled, before turning away and walking over to you.

You turned to him with a cupcake stuffed in your mouth, making you look like a chipmunk. Irresistibly adorable.