“I don’t have THAT many shoes,” Sheri scowled. “I don’t know why you seem to think I’m Imelda fucking Marcos or something.”

“Sure. Because anybody really needs more than three pairs of shoes, right?” He replied sarcastically, as they wandered towards Lawn and Garden.

“Just because YOU have only three pairs of shoes doesn’t mean there is something wrong with having more. You could use a little more variety, Champ.” She said, giving him an appraising look. “You’re out there wearing the fucking shiny belt after all. You should look good doing it.”

“I look fine!” He snapped, as they entered the department. She quirked an eyebrow in response.

“You could update your look a little. Maybe jazz it up with some new boots or something. Maybe a new mask. You’re kinda... dated.” Deadblood shot her a venemous look, and she shrugged. “Just trying to help, you know. I’m your valet and all. I’m looking out for you.”

“Oh? I wasn’t sure if you were still my valet. I figured you were gunning for a promotion to CW fashion police or something.”

“Whatever, Deadblood. I’m just saying it wouldn’t kill you to be a little more fashion concious if you’re going to be on fucking TV. Hey, look at that mower. I like it.”

Deadbood turned to examine the one she was pointing to, checking over the specs listed on a placard hanging off the shelf.

“Why that one? Doesn’t seem like anything special. In fact, for the price it’s underpowered. Has less features than the one beside it, and that one is only twenty dollars more. Plus it also comes with a grass catcher.”

“It’s green. Most of the ones I’ve seen are red. It’s different.”
He rolled his eyes.

“It’s a mower. It’s for cutting grass, not to look nice. Women...”