"Tarkan, don't you think this is… a bit much?" Slim asked, his skin back to its usual healthy glow, not the pale, drained look he had when he first exited the dimension.
He sat at the edge of a hot, steamy pond, watching a teenage boy lounge like a king.
Tarkan lay shirtless in the middle of the steaming pool, his lean frame half-submerged.
Several women in revealing dresses worked around him, massaging his shoulders and legs.
Different varieties of delicacies were arranged around him, and in one hand, he held a sparkling glass of red wine.
"Ah, Slim, Slim, Slim..." Tarkan turned to him, grinning. "How is this too much? Don't be a killjoy. Money's meant to be spent."
"But.."
"I live by a simple rule, the body that earns the money should enjoy the money," Tarkan said, lazily sipping from his glass.
"Ohhh…" Slim dragged the sound out awkwardly, like he didn't quite know how else to respond.
Tarkan glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing. "Why are you making that face?"
