It is, for once, his own voice he hears in his head telling him what to do; this one is his tactic, one he taught himself to avoid fights, contrary to popular belief. Head down, mouth shut, even if he's still a bit hot under the collar as Felix disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't want to argue, either.
Dean has moved by the time Felix comes out, pulled jeans on anyway and set his Bob Seger record playing low; he's calmer, too, shoving Morgana and mistakes and all the crap he possibly can off to one side while he busies himself doing things like replacing the salt line, taking more ibuprofen, folding Felix's clothes, and throwing his own into the ever fluctuating dirty pile. He's sitting at his desk, mainly toying with the tiny robot horse there rather than doing anything when Felix emerges.
It's easy to smirk at him. What came before isn't gone, but he's skilled at ignoring what he doesn't like and reaching instead for a better mood. He still sounds and looks a little tired, for him, but not anywhere near even just half an hour ago, and with quickly vanishing traces if any at all of his previous annoyance.]
Well, you do realize it's because you are naked, right? [Then, smiling more broadly as he straightens up in the chair, gives Felix all of his attention:] I can lay hands on a Sharpie or somethin' if it'd make you feel better, Emperor.
[Spam]
It is, for once, his own voice he hears in his head telling him what to do; this one is his tactic, one he taught himself to avoid fights, contrary to popular belief. Head down, mouth shut, even if he's still a bit hot under the collar as Felix disappears into the bathroom. He doesn't want to argue, either.
Dean has moved by the time Felix comes out, pulled jeans on anyway and set his Bob Seger record playing low; he's calmer, too, shoving Morgana and mistakes and all the crap he possibly can off to one side while he busies himself doing things like replacing the salt line, taking more ibuprofen, folding Felix's clothes, and throwing his own into the ever fluctuating dirty pile. He's sitting at his desk, mainly toying with the tiny robot horse there rather than doing anything when Felix emerges.
It's easy to smirk at him. What came before isn't gone, but he's skilled at ignoring what he doesn't like and reaching instead for a better mood. He still sounds and looks a little tired, for him, but not anywhere near even just half an hour ago, and with quickly vanishing traces if any at all of his previous annoyance.]
Well, you do realize it's because you are naked, right? [Then, smiling more broadly as he straightens up in the chair, gives Felix all of his attention:] I can lay hands on a Sharpie or somethin' if it'd make you feel better, Emperor.