"Boss, this is a penis car."
"Excuse me? Tiger of mine, would you please repeat what you just said because I think I heard you sa-,"
"This is a penis car. A car for those who need to overcompensate."
Jim pouted as he was practically pulled away from the Corvette and whined, placing his hands on Sebastian's chest:
"But it's pretty."
The sniper only rolled his eyes and nodded towards the car disdainfully, eyeing it as if it were the most fowl creation of man's hand on the planet:
"It's non-functional. Horrible motor, noisy, non-bulletproof, which, in your case, Boss, is pretty fucking important, and it has an automatic. I don't drive an automatic. Which means this car is practically going to stand around the garage taking up space. Thank God we don't pay taxes. Or have insurance."
"I can drive it," Jim said quietly. Sebastian look at him for a moment, stunned, and then threw his head back, roaring with laughter:
"Sure." He placed his arms around Jim's smaller shoulders, practically cradling the other man in his much broader grasp: "You know, if I told anyone the great James Moriarty didn't know the gas pedal from the breaks…"
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, I would."
"Then I shall have to skin you," Jim answered maliciously before cocking an eyebrow at the sniper: "One test drive."
"Boss."
"Tiger."
"Magpie."
"Bastian."
"Fine. One drive. Then we go and tell this… unauthorized reseller of yours that we need a normal car."
"Let's see how much of a penis car this really is."
"Boss, I'm driving."
"Gah… Sebby, please don't kill us before I finish this, it would really hurt my ego."
"F-f-fuck… Boss… With all.. Uh… Due respect… Nothing can… oh God, hurt your… fuck, do that again! … Ego."
"We'll take it."