Faris was a needle’s width away from walking out. “We are not doing that!” He shouted.

“Yes. We. Are.” Flynt punctuated each word by slapping the table. Sketch pencils rolled, some right off the table.

Faris scoffed and gathered his designs. “Fuck you.” And he walked out.

“No you!” Flynt threw a ruler across the room. “Will you be home for dinner?!” Another ruler joined the first somewhere.

Faris turned around so fast his head swam. “Yes!” He stomped his foot and walked out the glass doors to the elevators and jammed the down button. The elevator chimed a second later and Faris climbed inside. He put on his sunglasses and adjusted his scarf. No matter the level of anger or fighting one of them always managed to say something that made everything okay or somehow conveyed that despite their anger they still loved each other.

He wasn’t about to completely redesign his collection for the sake of easier construction for Flynt. However, he could be persuaded to reduce the collection by a look or two if properly persuaded.

The elevator chimed open and Faris strode from the building to an awaiting town car. His phone chimed and he automatically answered. “Yes?”

“The Flynt of Flynt and Faris wants to know if Faris would like steak or salmon salad for dinner?”

They partnered together over ten years ago under the combined name of Flynt and Faris. They’d done well and were now considered one of the top designing teams in the world. Faris smiled and crossed his legs. “What does Flynt want?” The habit of referring to the other in third person when on personal calls started so long ago Faris didn’t remember when it happened.

“Flynt wants sex but that’s not food.”

He perked up at that. “Should Faris come back up?”

“If Faris doesn’t then Faris’ ass will be on the couch.”

Faris hung up. “Wait here.” He told the driver and got out. Faris made it to the elevator before it closed. He hit his floor and smirked. Flynt and he were many things but boring certainly wasn’t one of them.