“Flynn, you got anything good to drink?” Lora asks, getting up from her seat.
Flynn pulls away from Alan’s mouth, fingers still on the middlemost button of his nice dress shirt, and looks at her. “Yeah, I got some New Coke in the minifridge.”
“I said something good.”
“Hey, New Coke is good, okay?”
“Oh my god. I’m not getting into this again.” She grabs a can of New Coke anyway and moves back to the chair, landing in it with a plop. “You owe me an actual soda.”
“Speaking of owing,” Alan says before Flynn can reply, hands traveling under Flynn’s T-shirt, “have you looked over the new royalties contract yet? Mattel wants more than their fair share, as usual.”
Flynn snorts. “You really wanna talk about business? Now?”
“What? It’s efficient.” As if to prove his point, he whips Flynn’s shirt off in a single fluid motion. “Business and pleasure, right?”
Flynn’s chuckle is low in his throat. “You’re literally the only person who can talk about efficiency and still turn me on, you know that?”
From her perch, Lora grins, her soda forgotten in her hand. “I completely agree.”