The Biker's Rules
The fish-lip dude glares at both of us.
“Great,” I sigh, pretending to concede. “Let’s make it easy. I’ll assign nicknames.”
I study them thoughtfully. “Okay … Big Guy is definitely a Tony.”
His jaw tightens.
“And you,” I look at the guppy, lowering my voice like we’re sharing a secret, “you look like you were almost named something intimidating, but your mom still calls you by your full name when she’s mad.”
He looks at me before he can stop himself. Hook.