Vface
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Summary
"Kim, I saw something in the Whirling's bathroom," the detective says in a low voice, rubbing the scruff on his chin. "It might be case-relevant, it might not."
The lieutenant studies his partner's face; this seems like a setup for a vile practical joke, but he can't tell for sure. He sighs.
"What did you see in the bathroom, officer?"
"There was a hole in the wall."
"A hole in the wall? Like a peephole?"
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House examined his double from all angles, slowly circling him with his brow furrowed in concentration.
The actor simply stood and smoked his cigarette, quietly observing his new employer. His hair had been dyed and he was dressed in a finely-tailored suit--to the untrained eyes of the masses, this was Robert Edwin House. A face onto which they could project their grievances, a target for their vitriol.
For the trained eyes of his so-called industry peers, the real work had yet to begin. One must refine and test the product before it goes to market.
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“Robert’s staring at you, dude.”
“What, like a good stare or a bad stare?”
“Hmm, maybe bad?”
“Did he look mad? Sad? S’mad?”
“Expand your vocab, Mr Harvard Graduate.”
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Pinched between his thumb and forefinger, Robert jiggles the stash in Sonar’s face.
“Oh- Pssh, c’mon, dude- That's not-” Sonar sputters. “I didn't even know that was in there! And it's such a tiny bit anyway. That's nothing. Barely one line!”
“For who?” Robert gives the baggie an aggressive flick. “Mr. Snuffleupagus?”
“Don't be mean, Robbie. I'm self-conscious about my nostrils.”
Robert helps Sonar kick his coke habit. Through unconventional means.
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Summary
Flambae's trying to figure things out. Robert just wants to workout.
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The boys spot each other and are very catty and messy about it.