Vincent: Ohhhhhh-ok so the old crone is your mommmmmm-ok got it-
"Yeah."
Vincent: Gotcha. And how old are you, exactly, that you smoke like a 1910's businessman-trust me I would know-and yet you still live with your mom?
"...I don't have enough money to go anywhere but a hotel.."
Vincent: ...Y'know you'd have more money if you didn't spend it on expensive ass cigs right?
"...maybe my money wouldn't go down the drain if you stopped throwing my shit down into gutters!"
Vincent: ...
He sighs, running a hand through his hair
Vincent: Alright. I've decided. From now on, you work for me. I'll let ya live here for free, I don't have food so you're gonna have to figure that one out yourself, and I'll pay you-I dunno-like, $10 dollars an hour? That's fair right?
"...why would you do that..?"
Vincent throws his hands up in the air
Vincent: I dunno, cuz I'm a fuckin' bleedingheart! Do you want the job or not!?
"Please."
