You know you annoy him. He reminds you of that quite often. Maybe you should just stop talking all together. Walking to a row of books that need to be put away, you pick one up. Grey's hand grasps the back of your shirt, turning you around to face him. His hand comes up and he rests it at the top of your throat. He lifts your head up and glares. "That wasn't there last night," He growls softly, looking at the small bruise starting to make itself known on your bottom lip.