"I don't understand women! I don't understand women!"
"Hey, at least you've got a woman to understand…"
I gave Michael a flat look.
We were on a sofa in the main living room of my estate. I was slouched back, head clutched tightly in my hands, while he was lying prone with his face buried in my lap.
Yes. In my lap.
"Hey, buddy?" I said to him.
"Yeah?" came his muffled reply.
"Please get up. My servants might mistake this for something deeply inappropriate, and I am not emotionally prepared to defend my honor this early in the morning."
"It's not early," Michael didn't move, simply mumbling into my thigh. "And if anything, this just proves how low I've fallen."
"That's not the direction I meant," I said dryly. "Also, you're drooling."
"I have nothing left to lose."
"You have my trousers to lose, and I'm quite fond of these."
He let out a drawn-out groan full of teen suffering and despair, but still made no effort to move.
