Dominique laughed. It was a lazy, easy laugh, but his eyes were calculating. "Small brain of his. What can he even plan? A picnic? A bake sale? A lecture on how to be annoying? The man couldn't scheme his way out of a paper bag. I've seen toddlers with better strategies. And they eat their own crayons."
Hazel snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. "You're terrible."
"I'm honest. There's a difference. Terrible people lie. I just state facts." He leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head. "Nicolas probably thinks he's some kind of mastermind. Like he's in a movie, wearing a black turtleneck, staring at a chess board. But in reality, he's the guy who loses in the first ten minutes and blames the lighting."
Hazel giggled. "The lighting?"
"The lighting, the chairs, the air. Everything except himself." Dominique shook his head dramatically. "I've seen his type before. All talk. No walk. Just... waddle."
Hazel laughed harder. "Waddle?"
