That's my strategy: talk about the bottom of the barrel so I come out of this smelling like roses.

[ He should be appalled by his own tactics, but he has no time for that or for his second smartass comment; both of them are swallowed by his own breath, a long exhale when Jolyne winds her fingers around his stiffening cock and pulls it out from the confines of his jeans. There's a low shit as he shifts against her palm, bracing himself and regaining enough of his poise to do away with Jolyne's shirt altogether. Goodbye, tank top: he pulls it off of her and tosses it aside haphazardly. ]

But yeah, I'll be working 'hard', alright.

[ Rolling a thumb over a nipple, the other free hand goes down into the back of Jolyne's pants and slides under to squeeze at her ass. ]