"She wouldn't eat anything but McDonald's Quarter Pounders with cheese." How did you know it was McDonalds?" he asked."Trial and error." I don't want ...o feed my dog McDonalds," he typed, adding a frowning smilie."Your dog isn't depressed," I told him. "Canine depression is really rare." They told me at the shelter he might be, coming from his old family." Well he must have eaten at the shelter, right? Ask them what they fed him." He was only there for four days," he typed. "And wouldn't your. “What the hell happened to your leg?” Vincent asked in a disgusted tone. I had completely forgotten about the mark Riccardo left behind. “I don’t fucking know.” I said defensively. “Can you leave now? I have to work in the morning.” Vincent grabbed his jacket which I didn’t even notice he left on my sofa and shrugged it on. “How about you let me know when you stop PMSing?” He muttered a few more profanities before dispersing the room entirely, slamming the door behind him for emphasis. I. More

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