he’s resting leisurely against his living room walls, taking in the sight of their grand first-in-command tigering from one end to the other; all while feeling decidedly undecided as to whether he should savor this moment or dread the lecture that was bound to still follow. “gee. would’ya look at that frown on your face.” he’d done a great job at avoiding the man up till now—let jack stew until he’s cooled off, had been the plan ( or at the very least until he’d come up with a wide enough array of excuses that would sooner than later lead to their dropping this conversation altogether ). now, though ... why. now, the cat was quite literally out of the bag and taking a stroll through his flat; evidently not in a mood for any more of such games. a blend of feigned bemusement and suave sarcasm drips off his lips as he does anything but damage control: “you couldn’t be ... mad at me, could you?” / @redvisioned











