Kinich sat in the kitchen chair, fidgeting like a nervous cat.

"I don't get why we can't just do it here" he muttered, glancing at the needle in your hand. "It's not rocket science, right?"

You raised an eyebrow, holding the ice cube to his ear. "You say that now, but you’re already sweating, Kinich."

He shifted in his seat, lanky limbs too big for the chair, and you could tell he was regretting his rebellious decision. But, in typical Kinich fashion, he wasn’t going to admit it. "I’m fine. I just—how long is this supposed to take?"

As soon as the needle got close, Kinich flinched dramatically, jerking away and almost tipping the chair over. "Wait, wait! Are you sure you know what you're doing?" His voice was still quiet, but the panic creeping in was unmistakable.

You bit back a laugh. He groaned, gripping the seat of the chair.

"Hold still. It’ll only hurt for a second."

Kinich closed his eyes, bracing for impact like you was about to perform major surgery. The sight of him, so tall and serious, whining like a kid about a little needle, was almost too much. He let out a muffled, "Ow," followed by, "Why did I ever trust you with this?"