“Are you goanna make yourself useful?” She asked as she gave a sideways glance at the blond-haired young man that stood at the kitchen door.
“Why don’t you ask the fucking idiots who ate on those to help you?” He replied, a menacing smile on his face.
“Because…” she stopped scrubbing the plate in her hands and turned to face him. “They are guest. You are not. Besides they already went home.”
“And why the hell would I help you with that?” He questioned, crossing his arms across him chest.
“It’s my birthday.” She answered with a smile; she knew she was winning the conversation.
“And if I don’t?”
She went for the kill. “No more after party celebration for you then.”
She continued her chore, she felt him walk towards her.
“Who taught you to black mail so well?” He hissed at her ears.
She laughed as she gave him a soft kiss on his cheek and a dishtowel. “I have the best teacher.”