VERSUS.
“ they are. ” it’s a grunt, low and condescending. idiots. there’s a distinct pout to versus’ lips as he leans on table’s edge, near a few piles of books and a globe that’s honestly just decoration at this point - outdated.
bother him?
shoulders hike up a little higher and he hides between them // gaze drops to lines of mosaic scrawling in the tabletop. “ uhh. nah. it’s a lil weird, isn’t it? i mean. ” to them. apparently. dammit, now he’s making his dad uncomf- well, maybe. nails tick against wood // another set of fingers rubs at his nose. “ i dunno what they’re thinking. ” never does. bit of a sore spot, that, but. he’s ( thankfully ) got better company to keep. still, he’s enough experience by now to know this much, and an aghast glance is sent ( up, up, up ):
“ actually, they tend to just get more dogged over time. they don’t let up on juicy shit like this easily. ”
@parricidalis || continued.