"Do you think he is coming?" Anton poured himself a glass of vodka on the small bar counter. "Or would he be busy trying to persuade Fil to attend his grandfather's party?"
"I don't know, and I don't care." Michael, who was busy finding his spot around the billiards, remarked sarcastically. He bent over, positioning his cue stick. "He can take Marianne with him to his grandfather's birthday party if she can't. What's the difference?"
"The difference is his grandfather might break his leg this time after the grand birthday party." Anton leaned his back against the bar counter, taking a shot, and hissed in satisfaction. "Is Marcus coming?"
"He said… he might."
"They still hadn't made up?"
"Do they ever make up?" Michael took a shot and cheered when the ball entered one of the side pockets. "From what I know, they just suddenly talk to each other as if nothing happened."
Anton rocked his head and pressed his lips. "Make sense."
