you were at camp jericho and were picking teams for a capture-the-flag-esque game. you and ajax had been on rocky terms in your frenemies-situationship thing lately, meaning he was more petty than his usual caring, awkward demeanour.

“i want in,” you stepped toward him.

ajax had his arms crossed, picture of (faux) nonchalance, as he cocked his head and drawled, “oh man— i’m sorry, this is the nightshades only team,” he patronised, feigning utmost sincerity and sympathy.

you narrowed your eyes almost unnoticeably, matching his patronising manner, as you simulated an upset pout— before leaning in and whispering, “i know.”

he just blinked at you as you stepped right past him dismissively, shoulders conveniently colliding, as you migrated into the group. you’d been recruited by the nightshades recently— apparently unbeknownst to him. the look on his face was worth all of his snarky comments up to this point.