Whatever the popular consensus is about the lowrider, Dylan thinks it's pretty damn slick. He's also gotta admire that Jesse drives it anyway, not really giving a damn about what anybody in town thinks. Sometimes White Pine Bay isn't so lame, but other times Dylan feels like he's on the outside, looking at a bunch of superficial people who think that they're independent of trends or conformity-- in that sense, it's good to have someone around who cares just as little as he does about fitting in to make people happy.
The informal swatting? Not so much. Dylan looks down at his arm, then at Jesse. He reclines back farther in his chair, shifting his legs for the sake of circulation and comfort.
"Upper management would have a shitfit. I'm not getting my ass chewed out for that, or having anybody think that they can't trust me to do something so easy. I told you, you can bring cigarettes."
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The informal swatting? Not so much. Dylan looks down at his arm, then at Jesse. He reclines back farther in his chair, shifting his legs for the sake of circulation and comfort.
"Upper management would have a shitfit. I'm not getting my ass chewed out for that, or having anybody think that they can't trust me to do something so easy. I told you, you can bring cigarettes."