"Oh! I'm so sorry, Noel. Truly, from the deepest pits of my soul, I didn't mean to insult your wife like that…" Victor dropped to the floor in a grand kowtow, pressing his forehead to the ground with the energy of a man auditioning for Desperate Idiot in Distress. The time was exactly 3:03 pm, and the entire hotel room seemed to hold its breath, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a butter knife.
Noel stared down at Victor with the calm disdain of a parent watching their toddler throw a tantrum in public. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we agreed on this ridiculous code, and yet seeing you grovel like that… I regret everything."
Victor, still on the floor, peeked up with a mischievous grin. "Regret? Oh no, my dear Noel. Regret is realizing your own genius in action! Look at us— alive, un-stabbed, and shapeshifter-free. You're welcome."
