"There was a freaking snake! In my bar!"
Ichabod's voice raised a bit with every word, feet stomping heavily on the wooden floor as he walked back and forth, black-feathered fingers buried in dual-colored hair.
"A snake, uh? Sounds like you had a close encounter with the Serpent's Shadow then, he's quite the sneaky nuisance~" Steelbeak chuckles, his signature nasal laughter grating on Ichabod's nerves more than usual.
"I don't give a hoot and a quack what his name is, he was snooping around my bar! Last thing I need is a freaking S.H.U.S.H. spy sniffing around the place!" the crane's voice raised even more in rage (thank goodness for the Goodfella's privacy chambers and their acoustic insulation), and this time the rooster did wince. Cranes were known for their powerful voices, and Ichabod wasn't pulling any vocal punches.
"Sorry man, your bar, your problem." Steelbeak shrugged, taking another sip of his drink, apparently unbothered by the vinegar-y taste of it.
"A problem that I have because of you! You and your stupid deal!"
"A deal you could have refused, y'know?~" the rooster smirked, and he knew he'd hit a sore spot when Ichabod stopped mid-stomp, turning around to throw him the fiercest glare he'd ever seen, the crane's yellow eyes blazing with fury. A look that would have had lesser avians cower in fear, but Steelbeak was used to deal with far worse.
"You know damn well I couldn't!" Ichabod hissed through gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight, shaking fists. He still remembered the faded picture of his beloved sister in the old newspaper article that Steelbeak had shown him that day before tearing it to pieces with his namesake...
"Joke's on you then~" Steelbeak's smirk, if possible, grew even bigger, the smile of a predator who knows he's got the prey at his mercy. Ichabod was sorely tempted to throw something at that infuriatingly shiny prothetics; as it were, he knew it would do very little to erase that stupid cocky smirk, so he contented himself with imagining what other gross ingredients he could add to Steelbeak's next drink order.
"Screw you!" He spat out, the words dripping with poison as they left Ichabod's beak. An useless, empty retort, nothing more than an attempt to have the final say.
"Nah, I'll pass, you're not my type." The rooster even had the audacity to wink at Ichabod. The bartender blinked owlishly at him for a moment, then, surprisingly, he burst into laughter.
"Good, I wouldn't sleep with you even if you were the only male left in the entire planet. I don't hate myself enough for that."
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