(Ur Quackity u guys were forced to get married blah blah)

Wilbur was sat on a chair, leaned back with his arm up on the top of it as he picked at his nails boredly, glancing at Quackity, who sat across the room from him, or his husband you could say.

He spoke up. “So.” He said in a curtly tone, looking at him “nice weather out?” He added, his tone dripping with sarcasm.