Hartley rolled his eyes. “Always a pleasure, Cisquito,” he drawled, straightening up and meeting his gaze. “I’m here to check-in.” He spat. “Does Harrison still have you wrapped around his finger? Or have you finally opened up your eyes so your vastly mediocre brain can process that I was right all along?”
Cisco clenched his teeth as the spanish nickname rolled off the other’s tongue. “What I’m doing is none of your business.” He huffed, stopping a few feet from Hartley. “Why are you here? Back to terrorize people from your past again?”
