>"I don't know enough about killin' to kill 'im," he told Tony. Tony stayed silent. He juiced a fourth orange with a handheld device. Time was running short. "But I known you for a while, Tony. You never treat nobody wrong, you're a stand up guy. They need to go, at least I ain't the one pulling the trigger." He kept on juicing oranges, and the oil from the rind kept on spritzing up in the air, mingling with the cigar smoke. Everything smelled like an aromatherapist's dark dream. Tobacco and chocolate and orange, and soon, there would be the sweet stink of death. Tony took a 28 gauge syringe, and stuck it through the cork of a cheap bottle of California Sparkling White, and pushed on the plunger. No need to waste actual Champagne on this. "This guy, this faerie faggot, he has the nerve to take my wife out for brunch every week. I don't give a shit that he sucks cock. Couldn't care less, actually." "What matters is this cocksmith tells my wife she shouldn't put up with me. Tell her our marriage vows don't mean shit, just cuz I threw her around a couple times after a bad night. Tells her she needs a lawyer to keep herself safe, tells her she is entitled to the assets I earned, FOR THE BOTH OF US!!!" "You sure about this?" "Just get ready for these Mimosas. This'll be a brunch to die for"