[ . . . . . that was fine at first but then - ]

No.

Vetoed.

You're going to stretch out my shit, wear your own fucking clothes.

Get your grossass paws off my clothes and I'll think about waiting for you in the car.

It doesn't have sleeves!

[As if his chest isn't already stretching the tank out. What once was fashionably loose is now skintight. Also, the hem is getting a bit damp.]

[AN ACCUSATORY POINT]

It's not a muscle shirt, dickweed!! And while you're at it, get your head out of your ass - it's not a hat!

Then give me my shirt back, bastard! Switch if you're going to complain so much!

[ACCUSATORY... well. No. He's just shouting.]

Nope!! Mine has a purpose!

[and he's gonna stick his tongue out at Zoro like he's a whole 5 years old and then move to dodge right out the door]

I'm driving off!! You have 3 seconds to change and get in before I ditch you!

That's my car!

[he'll abandon his shirt if it means reaching his car first. He even buttslides over the hood to get to the driver's side first.]

I. Drive.

So what, you just want me to sit back and take a ride on your hot rod?

[that's the wrong preposition, baren

but whatever, he's laughing as he tosses zoro the keys that he probably picked up on his way out like the thief he is]

'kay.

[Wow, you can just watch that innuendo fly over his head.]

A porsche isn't a hot rod. Idiot.

[God. Stupid. Whatever. He starts the car and grins at the engine's hum. Barely even waits for Baren to close the door before stepping on the gas. They blast off, drift around a sharp corner and speed towards the main street.]

Where to?

[baren is worried for zoro and his chastity while at the same time being the no. 1 threat

anyway he doesn't really snort at the sudden take off, instead grinning along with it as he makes himself comfortable. he fiddles with the radio to something he wants to listen to and shrugs]

Keep driving for the city, I'll let you know. And once I get out, just keep the car running.

[another day, another bad idea]