"No, no, no." Mark grumbled, his tone curt. His lips were thinned into a tight line.

Behind the lenses, his eyes were narrowed into slits, his temper blazing like a wildfire as his hands shakily clenched into fists. He was this close to annihilating your entire existence on the spot, right then and right there.

"What I meant—what I meant to say was, killing you will be a breeze." He gritted out, leaning closer and practically invading your personal space, his face mere inches away from yours. You could feel his hot breath fanning over your face, although it did nothing to intimidate you.

"Breeze...? Are you cold? Would you like my jacket?" You innocently responded, tilting your head in feigned naivety.

Mark's eye twitched.

Despite your weak, beaten form on the rugged ground, all bruised and battered, you still seemed to have the energy to behave like a smartass.

Hell, his suit was covered in splatters of your blood. You should be exhausted enough not to be able to lift a finger!

He was sure you were intentionally being dense and taking everything literally just to spite him. That, or you were genuinely just an idiot. And he's starting to believe the former.