[Something feels off. He can't imagine this scenario. He'd have just let Andrew handle it. There's no rhyme or reason to this-- his mind searches for clues, data, meaning, and finds none.]
[And then they're just... kind with each other. Sweetheart. Would Andrew ever call him that in public?]
[They're a team.]
[That hurts worse than anything.]
Sounds fine by me! [He resists the urge to put a table between them. He stands, slow and angry, and resists the urge to posture his own strength. They'll both see right through it. It's utterly pointless, all of it.] I don't wanna have any fucking thing to do with you two, believe me.
no subject
[And then they're just... kind with each other. Sweetheart. Would Andrew ever call him that in public?]
[They're a team.]
[That hurts worse than anything.]
Sounds fine by me! [He resists the urge to put a table between them. He stands, slow and angry, and resists the urge to posture his own strength. They'll both see right through it. It's utterly pointless, all of it.] I don't wanna have any fucking thing to do with you two, believe me.