"It's not dead, it's asleep," he informs blankly. Despite his cold delivery, he expected it to somehow stop your melodramatics.

Ever since a young age, you'd been much more dramatic than him, treating him as your knight in shining armor to fix problems that you blew out of proportion.

He was a vigilante, one of the best, a stone cold villain. He was not meant to be your shoulder to cry on, he was not a softie.

But this was another instance that confirmed his uncle's teasing. You were here again, at his door with your dead (hibernating) hamster. Even if it was dead, how was he supposed to fix that?

"Now, if you'd please, let me finish braiding my hair. Solo," he added the last part before you could ask.