![]() ![]() but they're hookin' us all up in the same room, uh-kay? We, uh. He folded his arms over his leather jacket-bound chest, trying to look gruff, and then stomped down to them. "I guess I'll go tell the stupid little punks about this deal, then." He stalked over to the group of other Tournament entrees in the lobby. Phoenix!! I'll go fix up the room RIGHT THIS VERY INSTANT!!!!" The clerk thanked his lucky stars and then plastered on a grin that was all butter and honey. The clerk waited in nervous anticipation, keeping his nervous smile the whole while. The bald, bespectacled clerk began to sweat, dabbing away the perspiration with a small handkerchief. Paul growled and held a steady glare with the clerk. there would b-be enough room for all of you.!" He flashed a grin one that was meant to be friendly, but turned out shaky. Phoenix, sir, but, uh uh, t-t-t-there are uh. The clerk fidgeted uncertainly, poking his two index fingers together. "I ain't sharin' no room with those punk-ass people, hmmmmm? Ya got me there, junior?!" "Wha'the hell?!" yelled Paul, pounding his fist on the check-in counter. ![]()
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