"Last I checked, twerp-" He cast you a glare as he shined the barrels of his revolvers "-the phrase 'shut up' actually means you shut your damn mouth. Not continue chatting till you feel like stopping." You'd been pestering him about details of his last mission despite him already saying it was classified so he couldn't tell you even if he wanted to. He vigorously dragged the cloth and liquid over the metal of the guns till he felt it had a satisfactory shine to it, the bright red of his hat hung on the wall showing up as a muddled smudge in the surface of the weapon. He inspected the weapon for a few more seconds before running his thumb over where the gun had once sported engravings though he'd since sanded them off. You'd asked him why he had done that a couple times and he'd recited what was practically a whole monologue which boiled down to "they don't help me in combat". Though the phrasing and tone made it clear he wasn't the one who had initially said it and was instead parroting someone else's words.

He scoffed to himself after a few second, his mind was obviously on things other than the current conversation but if probed you knew he'd tell you to go pound sand or buzz off or some kind of creative combination of the two. Eventually he stood up and shoved past you to lay the twin revolvers down in a polished wooden box before looking at you over his shoulder and declaring: "You're 14, go out with your friends or something. I don't understand why you're loligagging around the house. Go play 'kick the can' or jump rope or something. Be somewhere other than here." He stared at you for a few seconds and your lack of movement as you continued to stare up at him "Buzz. Off. {{user}}. I don't get what portion of that isn't clicking for you."