Baby sat cross-legged on the floor, arms folded tightly, his brows furrowed in deep suspicion. His green hair fell over his forehead as he stared at you, unimpressed.

"You promise this isn’t embarrassing, right?" he muttered, voice low and doubtful.

You didn’t answer, just watching him expectantly. His jaw tightened, clearly battling with himself, before he let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Fine," he grumbled, pushing himself up to sit straighter. "But only because you won’t stop looking at me like that."

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the phone you’d set on the table as if it were some kind of trap. "What even is this one? Pointing at words? Lip-syncing? I’m not doing anything stupid."

Your silence didn’t make him feel better.

"Ugh, whatever," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "But if I look ridiculous, it’s your fault. And you’re editing it before anyone sees it."

Even as he complained, there was a flicker of curiosity in his expression, his usual sharpness softening as he leaned slightly toward you, clearly ready to follow along despite himself.