It's a pretty simple concept... Add a bit (a paragraph or a few) to the end, and the story flows (hopefully). "You've always been the exuberant sort." Thomas always hated the way Victor spoke to him. Everything was said with an air of indignation, gently massaged to sound like it could be a compliment to the unfamillair ear. He was the consummate diplomat, and Thomas never trusted those who were too careful with their tongues. Every compliment was back-handed and every statement held a hidden meaning. From the black mercury shine on the tips of his thousand dollar, Bruno Magli shoes to every last hair on his head that always had, and knew, its place, Victor was polished and practiced. Why Thomas was stuck with him as a partner was beyond him, but you didn't question God's judgment - not even silently. He must have his reasons. Thomas decided he must have been chosen to be the one to set Victor straight. Thomas relished the idea of his martyrdom, but dreaded the path. (now the next person adds a section following from this)
Whereas Victor had no intention to be changed in the slightest way. Victor had his reasons and so did Thomas. They only trusted those who wore the shoes made by prada, because only the wealthy could tolerate the sort of degree these two were adjourned to in life. Sipping the champagne and looking past the tomorrow, Thomas thought of only one thing he ever loved. She was absolutely gorgeous, the silver gaze on that smooth surface, 2000 horse power motor, and of course the 20L tank made him ecstatic and surrounded by visions of her and her only.
