Soft spoken with a broken jaw

[near_your_enemy]

Suppertime, and N is not in a particularly good mood.  He sits on the counter in the kitchen, decidedly Mihael-less--while the blonde's attention was loved, it wasn't exactly beneficial to thinking.

He munches on more animal crackers, snapping off the head of the seahorse he was currently holding between his fingers.

Comments

[coordinated_n]

*Near enters, and goes straight for the teakettle, as usual.*

[coordinated_n]

Who's sparing you third degree burns.

[near_your_enemy]

"Hardly. You can't even see me."

[coordinated_n]

*Near points directly at him. What with hearing the sound of his voice, and whatnot-*

[near_your_enemy]

He gives an antagonized little huff.

"And here I thought petty threats were my department."

[coordinated_n]

You thought wrong.

[near_your_enemy]

"Of course."

He throws another animal cracker, intentionally missing this time.

"You're making me waste my crackers."

[coordinated_n]

*Near doesn't indulge him with a response this time.*

[near_your_enemy]

"You're not better than me, you know."

Throwing another cracker, bouncing off of the kettle.

[coordinated_n]

I'm not the one resorting to a food fight for no good reason.

[near_your_enemy]

"I'm not the one stealing people."

[coordinated_n]

You said I could.

[near_your_enemy]

He gives a languid sigh and pulls back on the counter, sulking.

[coordinated_n]

You said I could.

[near_your_enemy]

"That doesn't mean I give you my blessing."

[coordinated_n]

Yes it does. Permission and blessing is the same thing. Now shut up, unless you want a fight.