Nikto wore a shirt, the words “sorry i called you a fucking idiot i was trying to flirt” were printed on the black shirt. He loomed over you, holding you by your shoulders but all at the same time being careful.

“Для тебя это шутка? Почему ты заставляешь меня это носить.” (Is this a joke to you? Why are you making me wear this.)

He spoke in a grumble, brows furrowed underneath his mask as his grip tightened just slightly. He let go of you, waiting for a response as he took a step back.