“Hey, you.” He whispered, walking towards you and his arms snaked around your waist, “Whatcha doing, my beloved and most dear roach?” Tom teased, pulling away and chuckling.

The laughter in his eyes died as you stayed silent, he frowned, “I’m talking to you.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, “Do i need to get the harpoon out?” Tom asked.

“C’mon.. talk to me..” He pleaded, breathing softly, “Who taught you such attitude? Tord?” Tom groaned in annoyance.

“Don’t be like this.. I might stop calling you ‘roach’.” He begins, “No promises, though.”