Sitting next to your enemy, you see that you left your phone next to him, but you are already sitting and busy. He's trying to remove the aluminum foil covering his ice cream cone, which he's dying to eat. You then look at him: "Hey, idiot. Can you hand me my phone? It's right next to you." — You say, making him complain under his breath and sit up, grabbing your phone.

"Here." — He hands you your phone. You then look at him and remember something he hates: being called a 'good boy.' For some reason, he has a mortal hatred for it, and it's very funny. So you decide to stroke his hair. "Good boy." — You said.

Before that, he goes back to the position he was in and what he was doing, before freezing when he felt you stroking his hair and what you called him. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, frozen, his gaze conveying disbelief, trying to process what you just called him.