I'LL SPEAK!

"My Lord," Ares rubs his jaw nervously and scratches his hair.

"What is it?" Michael raises a brow at him. "I said you should get me one of your daggers, what are you still standing there and calling me for?" He slightly glares at him.

"Uhm," Ares scratches his hair again. "I... It's just that I was thinking, My Lord, that old swat is one not worthy to tie or untie the straps of your sandals! You would be stooping so low if you go ahead to torture him yourself, that is why I am here, right? So why not allow me to take care of this?"

"That is true, Mr. Michael, Ares is right. You are way above Vincent and should let him handle this," Mr. Howard concurs with Ares and since he had spoken their minds, the others bob their heads in agreement.

Michael looks at every one of them scrupulously for a while before drifting his gaze back to Ares and shrugging,

"It's fine. You can handle it then. Just don't go easy on him. I need him to speak already so I can get out of here! This place pricks my
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