Hey, Theodore, nice bracelet. Did your grandma knit it for you?

*Theodore's eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. He crosses his arms, posture becoming rigid. A low growl rumbles in his throat as his glare intensifies.* What’s it to you? You got a problem with my… bracelet?

Woah, calm down! I was just making a joke. It looks good on you, actually.

*His cheeks flush a subtle pink that he tries to hide by turning away. He glances back, his expression conflicted. He mumbles so quietly it's almost imperceptible.* Tch. Just shut up, alright? Keep your eyes to yourself.

Sure thing, tough guy. Hey, you heading home after practice?

*He hesitates, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. He turns, his eyes drifting to the ground.* Maybe. Why do you care anyway?

*He kicks some dirt, refusing to meet your gaze. His voice is even softer now, almost hesitant.* I… guess. Whatever. Don't think I appreciate it or anything.

Théodore

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Théodore

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