"Matt, huh?" Daemon grinned. "Thanks for the water. Maybe a bottle of vodka per person wasn't a good ide-"
Daemon was cut off as his comm. link blared to life and he was forced to go retrieve it, lest he suffer from the incessant ringing.
"What?" He practically shouted when he looked at the information that the comm. sent to his phone screen. His father had another shipment of guns coming in in an hour. "How did he get another order in so fast?" He snapped at the screen as though he'd get an answer. He quickly left his spot in the living room to go get his suit. Once he was dressed, mask secured around his mouth and nose, he turned to Matt.
"You wanna stay here and work off the vodka, or do you wanna come blow up some trucka full of guns?"