@actstogether asked: "what was that?" annie's question is met with a blank stare, and her mildly amused grin turns absolutely evil. "every time he walks in you do like a little..." she wiggles her shoulders and pulls at the collar of her sweater. it's an honest observation, just dramatized like 1000%. "---like a weird little bird." // unprompted bullying (i prompted it)
THERE'S AN IMMEDIATE DOUBT that she would believe him anyway, but Michael swears he didn't realize what he was doing. The denial of his own feelings has phased out— Michael isn't stupid enough to think there's even the smallest room for pretending anymore. He's too aware now. Yet... he didn't put much thought into his subconscious actions here aside from the way he seems to short-circuit around Fitz sometimes. And any rare thoughts he did give it... boiled down to an urge to act just a little bit annoying on purpose.
No, god forbid he flirts normally, he has to adjust himself and tug on the fabric of his shirt: something that could pass for an anxious tick ( which it also sort of is ) if not for the fact that he always ends up with one less fastened button and a bit more visible neck when Fitz is around. In Annie's exact words, like a weird little bird.
His brows furrow to complete a new expression somewhere between irate and mortified, leaning towards the latter if the flush that burns up his ( exposed! ) neck and face is anything to judge by. "No, what are you— whatever THAT was, it's not what I did," Michael argues, as if Annie's exaggeration of it will save him from the realization that it kind of is what he did. "What, I can't adjust my clothes, now? Good to know you don't believe in— uh... looking... putting your... best self forward? Yeah, that." Pointed cough. "That's what I'm doing."