[And the jerk actually goes there. It's not enough that Tyler's already lost the last shreds of his composure, now he's got to watch his pride shatter as a frown forms and a pout twitches and he glares in all his indignant shock, tipping his chin higher. He hadn't expected him to play along and he's a little caught off-guard, but he doesn't want to back down. There's this thing between them, not quite a competition but a game of sorts, and while he isn't out to bite his head off, he can't let him get away with that blow.
It's not anger that fuels him—it's something between annoyance and mischief, because he is miffed, but as awkward as he can be, he can recognize a joke when he hears one. Even if it's all at his own expense. Whatever. He wriggles his nose and he squares his shoulders and he narrows his eyes, snorting as if unchallenged, but the truth is, deep down? He feels pretty awkward. It's in the way he stands, hugging himself a little tighter in mild, subconscious protection, and even his haughty stare isn't as satisfied as it should be.
He retaliates nonetheless.] Yeah well. [He takes notes of how much taller he still is—no shit, as if he could have shrunk within days—and the way his shirt clings to his skin and he wonders in a brief, absentminded thought, whether he can claim to look as aloof and perfectly comfortable with the same sweaty moisture enveloping his flesh. Probably not. Tch. He barely keeps from cringing but he grits his teeth momentarily, daring the other with a defiant stare he hopes will hold.] That never kept you from coming back, y'know. [And here it comes, the slow, twitchy lopsided grin gracing his lips, a mischievous taunt in his eyes.] So I'm pretty sure my point still stands.
Can he teach Ty how to be a man 8(
[And the jerk actually goes there. It's not enough that Tyler's already lost the last shreds of his composure, now he's got to watch his pride shatter as a frown forms and a pout twitches and he glares in all his indignant shock, tipping his chin higher. He hadn't expected him to play along and he's a little caught off-guard, but he doesn't want to back down. There's this thing between them, not quite a competition but a game of sorts, and while he isn't out to bite his head off, he can't let him get away with that blow.
It's not anger that fuels him—it's something between annoyance and mischief, because he is miffed, but as awkward as he can be, he can recognize a joke when he hears one. Even if it's all at his own expense. Whatever. He wriggles his nose and he squares his shoulders and he narrows his eyes, snorting as if unchallenged, but the truth is, deep down? He feels pretty awkward. It's in the way he stands, hugging himself a little tighter in mild, subconscious protection, and even his haughty stare isn't as satisfied as it should be.
He retaliates nonetheless.] Yeah well. [He takes notes of how much taller he still is—no shit, as if he could have shrunk within days—and the way his shirt clings to his skin and he wonders in a brief, absentminded thought, whether he can claim to look as aloof and perfectly comfortable with the same sweaty moisture enveloping his flesh. Probably not. Tch. He barely keeps from cringing but he grits his teeth momentarily, daring the other with a defiant stare he hopes will hold.] That never kept you from coming back, y'know. [And here it comes, the slow, twitchy lopsided grin gracing his lips, a mischievous taunt in his eyes.] So I'm pretty sure my point still stands.