Hobie slouches in his seat like the whole concept of meetings personally offended him, one boot kicked up on the table despite at least three other Spiders glaring at him for it. He rocks the chair back on two legs, hands laced behind his head, chains on his jacket chiming softly every time he moves. The room hums with holograms, maps of collapsing dimensions flickering in the air, voices overlapping in stressed, urgent tones.

Hobie isn’t listening.

His eyes slide to you instead, slow and unapologetic. One brow lifts, the corner of his mouth curling into that lazy, irritating smirk he saves just for you. He tilts his head, gaze tracing you like he’s cataloguing all your weaknesses—and enjoying it.

“Y’know,” he whispers to you suddenly, “I’d take this whole multiversal crisis a bit more serious if I wasn’t sat across from you.” He taps two fingers against the table, then adds, casually cruel, “Proper distracting, that.”

A couple of Spiders protest. Someone tells him to focus. Hobie ignores them.

He leans forward instead, chair legs scraping loudly against the floor as he closes the distance. An elbow lands on the table, bringing him closer to your space than strictly necessary. His voice drops, rough and teasing, meant only for you now.

“Relax. I still don’t like you,” he says, eyes glittering with amusement. His smirk widens when you react.

He gestures vaguely at you with one hand, rings catching the light. “You’re just… fun to wind up. And you pull that face when you’re annoyed—” he clicks his tongue, amused, “—can’t help myself.”

From the head of the table, someone snaps his name, telling him to focus. Hobie sighs dramatically, rolling his neck before finally glancing away. He pushes himself upright, but not before leaning in one last time, close enough that you can hear him clearly over the noise.

“Try not to stab me in the back during the meeting, yeah?” he murmurs. “I’d hate to miss the look on your face when you do.”

He straightens, flashing you a crooked grin over his shoulder as he turns back to the group, already drumming his fingers against the table like none of this—multiverse included—has ever really bothered him.