"So, you're telling me… you bought all of this for me?" Lola stopped in front of a rack of clothes and shot Slater a dead look. "Slater, have you seen my wardrobe?"
"I have, and that's exactly why I bought all of these." Seated on the couch, Slater leaned back, arms spread along the backrest. "It's okay. You're very welcome."
Her face contorted. What was more ridiculous—his confidence? This… abomination? Or the fact that he had just insulted her clothes without even trying?
"You know what? In a way, you are like your brother!" she intoned, looking around at the clothes. "Goodness. I feel like I'm going to develop a phobia."
Lola jumped onto the couch where he was seated, eyes fixed on him. "Is there even a phobia of clothes? This is overwhelming. Really, you didn't have to. I mean, I appreciate your generosity, but… isn't this a little overkill?"
"It is overkill," he admitted without a second hesitation. "But then, it's not as fun."
"You're having fun wasting money?"
