Tyrone rolled his eyes, "Stop harping on about it. If you're so bold, why don't you take a shot? Bet you wouldn't dare. I'll strip down and get ready right this minute if you do."
He then turned to Mrs. York, "Mom, you should head inside. Weren't you saying you felt under the weather? Go rest up."
Mrs. York, glancing at Quintessa, still looked visibly worried. She grabbed Tyrone's arm tightly, "No way. How about, you lend her to me for the night then?"
Quintessa found Mrs. York's innocence endearing; rarely had she seen someone of her age maintain such purity. She chuckled, shaking her head at Mrs. York, "Auntie, I'm afraid that won't work. Well, two women can't exactly manage some things"
Mrs. York's face flushed red.
Struggling to hold back his laughter, Tyrone patted Mrs. York's arm, "Mom, go inside. If anyone's eating, it's your son here!"
Mrs. York harbored some doubts, "Can you even handle it?"
Well aware of how tough Quintessa could be and doubting her son's capabilities, she pondered if she should whip up some energy-boosting soup for him.
Tyrone frowned, "Mom, please, just go."
Mrs. York hesitated, shooting glances between Quintessa and Tyrone.
"Rest assured, Auntie. I promise your son will come back in one piece."
Mrs. York was conflicted, "Just don't be too harsh, okay?"
Quintessa waved her off, "Don't worry, Auntie."
Tyrone called out in a cool tone, "Mom."
"Fine, I'm going. Hmph." Mrs. York huffed, leaving the two and stepping inside.
Quintessa turned and got into the car, which slowly drove away from the Young family's residence.
Tyrone asked, "Where to?"
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