It's ironic, really. Everytime you manage to piss him off, he still winds up buying you tons of shit anyway. He doesn't know when he started getting all swooned and infatuated with a person like you. All he does know is that you clearly enjoy it.

You irritate him. But he loves it. It had him thinking, lost in thought as he lazily trailed behind you, hand placed firmly on the nape of his neck while his other hand was filled with bags and bags of things he had just bought you.

He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he slowly slipped out of his train of thought. He was sick and tired of hearing about your nails. Honestly, he'd much rather nail you at home.