This is the conversation that has been plaguing me for days:
Tony Caristo: Billy baby! Why are you ignoring me?
Me: I'm busy. Go bother Lyds.
TC: She's immune to my wind-ups. You wrote her, you know this.
Me: Be quiet!
TC: (sigh) Couple of months ago you were all over me.
Me: Oh Lord.
TC: It was like free buns at the cake shop. I was all nestled to your creative bosom. More if Lyds hadn't been paying attention.
Me: You and your obsession with breasts!
TC: What's wrong with that?
Me: So much I can't begin to tell you.
TC: Look, Bills, about this wedding. You've cut me out.
Me: I haven't at all, I've got stuff sorted for you.
TC: This neglect isn't right, woman.
Me: But this story isn't about you!
Me: Dude, you need to stop bugging me.
Me: Go away!
TC: You wait. I'm going to be hanging around, paddle in hand, just patiently waiting for you to go to sleep.
Me: Don't paddle threaten me.
TC: Get to writing then. Simple exchange.
Me: I'm telling Lyds.
TC: I dare you.
Do you see what I have to put up with? Threaten me with a paddle! Foolish Caristo, I will tell Lydia then he's in so much trouble, no one will hear from him until book six. On Caristos Watch Caristo on Amazon