He rolls his eyes, oh so inconvenienced by Rahzel, and plops down onto the shitty, sagging couch. In his one of seven sins, greed, or gluttony or whatever, he grabs a second brownie as he props his feet up on the table.

"He can help by not being on my tv."

He casts her a sidelong look, nudges her shoulder.

"But I've already had a little help of my own."