#for trainedbrofessional

"Crowbar," Die shouted, bursting into the room. Crowbar sighed and shut his eyes cynically. He had been a spritely man once, naive and ambitious. He thought he could change the world, but now. Now, he was just a guy with a hunk of metal and a hat that looked like a fucking nacho chip. He threw it across the room in disgust.

"Die, let's make out," Crowbar said, strutting into the bedroom. "Hell yes," Die said. He tucked his doll (carefully) into the dresser drawer and gave Crowbar a saucy wink. Crowbar was hot and bothered and secretly relieved. The last time they had a "passionate encounter," it felt like the doll was eyeing them up.