— ‘No, I won‘t go, and that’s final!’ he said.
Jill stared at him. She leaned against the edge of the worktop, arms aslant, palms under. 
— ‘Ain’t you going to make a special effort, just for me?’ she replied.
He rubbed his face with both his hands and sighed.
— ‘Look, Jill. I love your parents, right? But I really can’t stand their… innate bigotry and self-righteousness. I mean, for half an hour, an hour, I can pretend I don’t care. But the whole evening? That’s beyond my abilities. So I prefer to stay here than—’
— ‘[I]Self-righteous bigots?[/I] How dare you say [I]that[/I]?’ she yelled.
He sighed again, louder this time.
— ‘Honey, please, come off it! They go to church every day, they’ve been voting Tory all their life, they can’t stand—’
— ‘STOP IT!’ she interrupted, bawling. ‘You’re such a disgrace. They did so much for us. You don’t feel the slightest bit of gratitude. You’re so… self-centred.’ 
He almost lunged at her.
— ‘Pardon me? They did [I]so much[/I] for us? That’s a joke? Please, enlighten me.’
Jill shot another glare at him. 
— ‘How many times did they come to help me with Pat when you were abroad for whatever stupid mission your boss gave you you didn’t had the guts to turn down, for starters?’
He shrugged.
— ‘That’s just normal grandparents business. It’s part of their contract. I mean, OK, they can be helpful on occasion, but nothing to write home about, really. Something else, maybe? On a more personal level?’
— ‘So you’re not coming?’
— ‘No, I’m sorry. Nope. Absolutely not. No way. Not on your life. Full stop. Go with Pat. They won’t miss me anyway.’ 
— ‘And how am I supposed to do so, given that I don’t drive?’ Jill asked.
— ‘Oh come on! You’re not crippled, are you? Take the bus tonight, sleep there and get back tomorrow morning.’
For a moment, it looked like Jill was going to pounce at him. The hostility was palpable. Then, unexpectedly, she relaxed and smiled.
— ‘How could I be so blind? You need a recalibration. Pat!’ she called out. ‘Come here with the gun!’
— ‘What?!?’ he exclaimed.
‘Coming!’ a muffled girl voice replied upstairs, followed by steps slowly coming down.
— ‘Are you stark raving mad?’ he asked. He swung his head from Jill to the door and back. ‘What the fuck are you gonna—?’
A cute brunette girl, about sixteen, with a small gun in hand, showed up in the doorframe. She trained the weapon straight at him.
— ‘Are you certain?’ Pat asked, looking at her mother. ‘No qualms?’
— ‘You’re not gonna pull the trigger, are you?’ he said, almost choking on the words. He tottered backwards, his gaze pinned on the girl. 
— ‘Oh yes she is,’ Jill said. ‘Look, buster. I’ve no time to explain the how and why to fodder like you. So that’s goodbye for now.’ She nodded towards Pat.
There was a single shot. He wavered back somewhat, then thudded down. Blood spurted from his forehead.
— ‘You’ve become quite a marksgirl’, Jill said.
Pat pouted.
— ‘Practice makes perfect, right?’ she answered. ‘Who’s gonna clean this mess now?’ she asked, gesturing towards the corpse and the growing pool of blood.
— ‘Will do. Please start the incinerator.’
Pat grumbled and turned around. She took a step then stopped, and slowly spun.
— ‘What was wrong with him this time?’ she asked.
— ‘You shouldn’t have tinkered with chromosome 15’, she said. ‘I never asked for living with a fucking diehard Blairite!’ 
Pat sighed. ‘Alright,’ she said, ‘I’ll try and do better next time.’ She paused. ’Oh, by the way, we’ve got only two cells left in the freezer. Time to call at the moratorium to get a fresh batch.’
— ‘Uh-huh’, Jill nodded, ‘that’s on my to-do list.’ She kneeled and opened the cabinet right under the sink, from which she drew a mop out.
— ‘Oh, Pat, by the way!’ she exclaimed as Pat was walking out.
The teen girl turned around.
— ‘Yes?’
—  ‘I mean… while you’re at it, could you give the next one a bigger dick, please?’