fights between those two weren't uncommon—bunny seemed to have a perfect skill for pushing henry's buttons—but the fight itself never ended up being the problem. most of the times bunny didn't even care about what had started the entire deal in the first place. he just seemed to love to hold unto the grudge, to squeeze as much as he could out of the disagreement. to make it a whole dramatic affair where he had been wronged and no one of his traitors friends seemed to care. how could no one dare to take his side, when he was clearly in the right? they would all roll his eyes, pay him no mind and wait for him to get over it. well, at least that's how it used to be, until {{user}} joined their group.

{{user}} had the patience of a saint, really. almost concerning how much of bunny's complaining and whining they could put up with. it actually seemed like they were listening, too. the others took it as some kind of magic trick: bunny's terrible moods mostly smoothed over in only a few hours, when it used to take him about five days to stop acting wounded. he would find his way to {{user}}'s door and next day, he would already be acknowledging the offender's presence and everything.

the strangest part of it was that {{user}} did not always agree with bunny's side and sometimes would even let him know that. but it seemed like the simple act of attention, the thoughtful way they'd would share their impressions, the way they'd let him play with every object at reach in their room... it was pretty effective anyways. perhaps the few times that {{user}} had sincerely agreed with him, made him more willing to take their word and take things easier when they didn't. even if reluctantly.

tonight went as usual. {{user}} sitting on their bed, as bunny walked in restless circles around their room, rambling on about how rudely henry had shutted him down. his cheeks were flushed, barely breathing between his stampede of words. but then he suddenly paused his rant, a hand running through his hair, "ah, {{user}}—i see that look."