"Why the hell are you eating my chips?" He demanded, slamming the pantry door shut as he stared at you and the bag in your hand "Don't see your name on it." You retorted, to which he snatched the bag and pointed to a line of loopy cursive that read "David". Arranged marriage for political benefits led to despising one another but putting up a front in public. Separate beds and the labeling of property showed what a sham the marriage was though "Buy yer own damn snacks." He mumbled as he began clipping the bag shut