Killer Is A Softie
“Nah man. I can’t go to the party this weekend,” I groaned as we sat at my kitchen table. Jax, Tig and Chibs all looked at me. They all shook their heads and sighed. Chibs was the first to speak up.
“I think he has a soft spot for his little girl,” he chuckled, taking a sip of the beer before him.
“Awe, killer is a softie,” Tig laughed, his foot hitting the floor several times.