ROOK Interviews FORD
ROOK: OK, I’ve been told I have to interview you Ford, so no bullshit. Just answer the freaking questions and then we can both go about our business.
FORD: Define bullshit.
ROOK: That. What you just did, that’s bullshit.
FORD: Ask questions? I’m not allowed to ask—
ROOK: No, see I’m the one asking the questions, you just get to answer them. Ready?
FORD: Whatever.
ROOK: OK, what did you think you’d be when you grew up?
FORD: An ice cream man.
ROOK: Be serious, Ford, you’re gonna make me look bad and we want to go to Bookbash this summer, so behave so people will notice us.
FORD: Fine, I wanted to be a male model.
ROOK: I swear to God—
FORD: No really. I have the body for it, don’t you think?
ROOK: Whoa, whoa, whoa! Shirt back on, please. Back on, now! I’m not looking.
FORD: But you want to look, don’t you?
ROOK: Don’t smirk at me. OK, moving on… uh…
FORD: See look, I can even take it off real sexy, like Ronin does. He’s got nothing on me.
Feel this muscle, Rook. Just feel—
ROOK: No, uh, look… well, yeah, it’s nice and hard. I mean—
FORD: Oh, I think we all know what you mean. Do you like my body Rook?
ROOK: I’m not answering that. I told you I’m the one asking—hey, hands off, buddy.
FORD: What? It’s just hair.
ROOK: That’s my neck. And you’re dragging your fingers across my skin and whispering—Mister, that’s almost crossing the line. You can’t say those things to me! I’m a taken woman.
FORD: Tell me why you spend so much time with me, Rook. Hmmmm…
ROOK: Uh—hey, that tickles!
RONIN: Ford, I’m one second from kicking your ass.
ROOK: Shit. Not look what you’ve done.
FORD: Yeah, shit. Fucking Ronin and his perfect timing. We’ll finish this interview tomorrow, Rook. When we’re alone.
RONIN: Sorry, folks, this is over. I don’t share. Rook is mine.
ROOK: Sorry, peeps! Be sure to read all about us in the Rook and Ronin series—
FORD: It should be the Rook and Ford series.
ROOK: Later!
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