texts: Paul, give me your Amex card. Good boy. Bateman slaps the card down, looks at the check. </s> <s> Two-hundred-and-fifty. Very reasonable. Let's leave a big tip, shall we? My place hr a nightcap? </s> <s> No, man. I'm gonna bail.
labels: Come on, you dumb son of a bitch.  I've got a preview of the Barneys catalogue and a bottle of Absolut waiting for us.