(Y/n): Sign here
(Y/n), tapping the line:
(Y/n): sign here so we can finally get divorced, Duh.
Frontman:..we aren’t married.
(Y/n): just humor me ,decrepit old man
Frontman:…there’s a way to get rid of you?
(Y/n), tapping faster: yeah, HERE.
Frontman,dropping his pen: there, now leave me—
(Y/n), ripping the false layer off: HAHA! All the guards are mine now!!!
(Y/n), shoving the sheet in his face: You waver all your possessions to moi! Most importantly including your guards
(Y/n), jumping out a window: SAYONARA BEETCH. Boys, we’re going to Disney land!!!
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