Gem Atkinson's body stiffened completely. Then, with a simmering anger, he snatched the towel and tossed it aside, chuckling dryly.
That chuckle seemed rather off-putting to the woman.
"Do you want to blow dry my hair or not?"
"No."
"Really not?"
"Fend for yourself, sufficient clothing and food."
"Fine then..." the man feigned ripping up the sheet music.
That was the only thing Tyler Mamet had left her, "Gem Atkinson, don't you dare."
"What wouldn't I dare? Are you going to blow dry it or not?"
When this man went crazy, he was truly capable of anything, "Alright, alright, I'll do it," Forsythia Brown conceded. Then she couldn't help but resent, "Such a pig head, washing and blow-drying every day, not even tired."
"Have you ever seen such a handsome pig head?"
While talking, Gem Atkinson found the hairdryer and handed it to the woman.
Forsythia Brown was blow-drying his hair and said, "Gem Atkinson, I'll hum this tune for you."