#infisc

     he doesn’t like it. he genuinely, fully, entirely does not enjoy it. as add would stalk away, would elsword take his place and take it upon himself to… well. rub the rub. ain, much against all forms of displeasure for the attention, would accept his fate just the same.

Long hair to tug. Tug, tug.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Says the long haired swordsman would could just as easily have that hair tugged mid-battle. Bet that would feel great.”

“And you’re gonna stop doing that in my lab. Why are you even in here anyway?” Eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, a look of sheer disgust toward the object between the youth’s fingers. Complaint wasn’t necessarily about the health effects it would have on the boy himself, but hell was he going to let that smell linger in his personal space.

     perhaps  he’s only saying it just to say it. who knows?