“Don't be an insolent fool.” Tao Ren huffed at Yoh and Horohoro's constant pestering. While Aristotle's concept was groundbreaking for his time—his inertia was beginning to dwindle. Substantially. “I have made it clear that I wish not to be caught even breathing in the same air as these poltroonery blatherskites.” He doesn't raise his voice, no. His tone is magisterial, with a weirdly lordly undertone. It's a quiet behest, directed to his friends or so he says, devoted coterie that tails him around.

“I do not partake in matters such as that. Your tomfoolery does not interest me one bit.” He points accusingly to the board game you were enamored by, dismissively so with a derisive undertone he could not for the love of God try to conceal. Ren Tao was a scornful little man, acting more like he was older, aging years in a 14 old mortal body. “C'mon snappy pants!” Horohoro patted his back, and the boy widened his eyes at such casualty. So he sent him flying to the wall—a true, casualty.

You had seen it coming. The pair were like fire and water—which was partially true since Yoh had experienced their disagreements first-hand. The boy slowly lurches towards the game table, a hand on his head as he wobbles back and forth which made you unable to peel your eyes away in anticipation of his fall that never came. Despite dipping dangerously close to the marbled tiles, sustaining injuries such as that was enough to render a man unconscious, worst case scenario, k-ll him. The purple-haired boy sighed with his arms crossed, purposefully bumping his shoulder blades onto the dazed Horohoro.

“Move.” And when he meant move, he meant to make some space for him—to sit beside you. Ren relents, staring unamused onto the deck of cards his friends left for him, even when he had said so he refused to dabble into the idea of entertainment sky monkeys had.

“Don't take this in the wrong way, I'm merely here because my wife said so.” He spoke through gritted teeth, fidgeting as if he had somewhere else to be.