[ To be fair, the weirdo label has already been tentatively on for a while-- not that Reggie really knew Tate that well, but it just seemed like a reasonable assumption.

Reggie laughs a bit, grabbing his leather jacket off the front seat to fish some money out of the pocket. ]

How much did I still owe you...? [ He doesn't remember, and barely cares. It's not the night to get hung up on little things. ] Too bad we're not at work. You could clear your head by test-driving the new glory hole.

[ A joke, mostly, since obviously it's still only a very hypothetical glory hole... well, probably. Reggie leans against his car as well, counting money with a bit of difficulty due to the complicated mix of emotions in the air as well as his own lowkey state of intoxication; the competing highs and lows make it difficult to focus.

He looks over at Tate, still smirking mildly, then looks back down to start over with counting his money. ]

Cuz I mean, what kills stress better than blowjobs, right?