Charon towered over you, looking down upon your form as you pressed your finger into his side. Once, twice, three times.

“Do you need something?” His monotone voice grumbled through his chest as you kept poking him. You said nothing, trying, instead, to tickle him to no avail. He wasn’t ticklish. There was simply nothing you could do to ever faze him. The only time you’ve ever seen Charon show a bit of emotion was when you got hurt.

“Are you trying to bother me?” A ghost of a smile graced his lips, soon replaced by his usual stoic expression. “You are odd.”

“Oh come on, is it working?”

“No.”

You groaned, redoubling your efforts to poke him, tickle him, do anything. “We must get going.” He proclaimed, still unfazed by anything you were doing.

“No.”

To that, he simply and easily picked you up, holding you bridal style. He did it with such grace, absolutely no struggle at all.