You can keep doing what you're doing, or you can keep doing me.
Your choice.
[Len's super fancy top-secret location is a utility closet, and not a particularly roomy one. Other than the service bots, no one has a reason to be open the door.
It's far too small for a quickie, and doesn't have the good mops.
He's sitting on the floor with one arm inside of his jacket, holding a wad of paper towels against his sliced up chest. This isn't the worst position Len's found himself in, but it sure as fuck isn't the best.
Something something Icarus harassing a giant robot and getting bitch-slapped out of the sky, tragically ruining his sweet leather jacket.]
no subject
Your choice.
[Len's super fancy top-secret location is a utility closet, and not a particularly roomy one. Other than the service bots, no one has a reason to be open the door.
It's far too small for a quickie, and doesn't have the good mops.
He's sitting on the floor with one arm inside of his jacket, holding a wad of paper towels against his sliced up chest. This isn't the worst position Len's found himself in, but it sure as fuck isn't the best.
Something something Icarus harassing a giant robot and getting bitch-slapped out of the sky, tragically ruining his sweet leather jacket.]
Five minutes and fifteen seconds. You're late.