Shito sat at a long table in the cafeteria beside his partner, eating his way through a plate of yakisoba noodles. He took a bite, frowned, then glanced down the table
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Devit was sitting there, miserably poking at his noodles, when he caught wind of Shito's request. Scowling in response, he hunched in his seat and began poking his food with more vigor, practically stabbing it.
"Tell the zombie he can get his own damn soy sauce," he grumbled, loud enough for Shito to hear.
Chika had already been gritting his teeth to keep from snapping something nasty at Shito, but Devit's response pushed him over the edge.
"All right, I've fucking had it!" he declared, slamming his hand down on the table so hard he snapped his chopsticks. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?"
Shito jumped a little as Chika suddenly broke his chopsticks. He glared at the other boy, still trying to angle himself so that the spiky head of the other zombie blocked his view of Devit.
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said coldly. "I just need soy sauce."
Devit had jumped, as well, but he offered nothing more than a cursory glance at the broken chopsticks before he resumed stubbornly glaring at his food.
"I'm not talking about the fucking soy sauce," Chika snarled, glaring at each of them in turn. "I'm talking about the fact that you're behaving like a pair of fucking five-year-olds, relaying your fucking messages through me like you can't hear each other perfectly well. What. The Fuck. Happened?"
Comments 46
"Tell the zombie he can get his own damn soy sauce," he grumbled, loud enough for Shito to hear.
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"All right, I've fucking had it!" he declared, slamming his hand down on the table so hard he snapped his chopsticks. "What the fuck is wrong with you two?"
Reply
"There's nothing wrong with me," he said coldly. "I just need soy sauce."
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"And I'm just saying he can get it himself!"
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