“You offering me a job, or something?”
“Or something.”
What? The change of tune is enough to give me whiplash. I squint at him, trying to figure out what he’s playing at. Maybe it’s because my brain is damaged from the blow, but I can’t tell if he’s joking or not.
“Why do I feel like I’m about to get sex trafficked?”
Raphael lets out a short sigh. “I’m offended. All of my businesses are perfectly legitimate; thank you.”
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