how many times must he endure such a thing;
the passing of one so vulgar, an itch in the perfect network of sense and thought, the heavy breadth of annoyance laid over his shoulders.
it is simple, the act of walking past one another in the tight space of the halls of a city so grandiose, even with one blue spirited spitfire. but it is the edge of a trailing coattail that gently graces the figure now behind him, that forces footwear skidding across the sleek floor.
he pauses.
it is disgusting, the sensation of four’s coat having touched, even so slightly, six.
That common irritation already took its place at a curled lip once the azure gaze found that monochrome stain in his path.
A mutual scoff was exchanged between the beasts; his own much sharper than what was received.
There was nothing more but the upward tilt of the chin, a displayed arrogance in the gait of the brute two positions below. However, those flimsy endeavors at ignoring the opposite existence seemed as fruitless as ever. The very instant the sound of footfall halts, the action was mirrored.
Narrowed was the King's eyes as they slid to regard the bat once more, edged were the words spat in his direction;
"--Y'got a fuckin' problem, Cuarto?"
