Logan's hand trembled as he poured a glass of water, then he handed it over to Yvan. "Here, have some water."
"Thanks," Yvan replied with a cheeky grin. "I thought you'd be avoiding me because of that whole Starlight Media fiasco."
At the mention of this, Logan's face fell instantly. "I really had no intention of talking to you."
"Hey now," Yvan said, taking a sip of water and stretching his limbs, a needle still stuck in the back of his hand. "I swear, I had no interest in that woman."
"Then why was she so cozy with you? It must mean there was something between you two before."
Yvan was momentarily at a loss for words. "Well... can't you just say I was blind back then?"
Logan chuckled. "I can't believe you're admitting to having bad taste."
Yvan shrugged, blinking nonchalantly. "As long as my taste is good now, that's all that matters."
"My mom used to have bad taste too, but she's better now," Logan said, lifting his chin defiantly. "That's why she can't stand you."
"Jeez." Yvan clutched his chest dramatically. "Your old man just woke up, and you're already hitting me where it hurts, you little rascal."
"Hey, don't curse at me. Cursing me is like cursing yourself," Logan quipped with a cheeky smile. "After all, you're my dad."
Yvan wanted to give him a light smack but restrained himself, instead patting the bed. "If I don't win over Matilda Thompson, it'll definitely be because you drove me to it."
"Don't go kicking the bucket," Logan replied with a knowing look. "You can leave, but dying is not an option."
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