She (Probably Doesn't) Want the D.
“Ugh,” Flash groaned as he slammed the door shut, flopping down onto one of Blueblood’s bean bag chairs and blowing his mane out of his eyes. “This was without a doubt the gayest night ever.”
“Phrasing,” Blueblood said, not looking up from his magazine.
Shining shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes locked onto his comic book as he blew out another puff of smoke. Both he and Blueblood were also sitting on different colored bean bag chairs, kicking back and reading their respective pieces of “literature” as they inhaled the best stuff royal bits could buy. Shining leaned to his side, cracking his back before returning his blunt to his mouth and nonchalantly flipping his comic book page with magic.
Shining coughed, bringing his hoof to his mouth before speaking. “You need to chill out, bro,” he said. “This is why I told you not to try to get laid at the Gala—all the bitches there are, well, bitches. It’s impossible to get any ass without some gold digger trying to get into your pants. And I’m not even talking about the fun part of them, just the pockets.”
