“He’s looking over here,” Peter sings under his breath, his eyes sparkling with mirth, “and he doesn’t look happy.” The sentence was accompanied by what you could only describe as a shit eating grin, and an offer to take a bit from his sandwich.

He swings an arm over your shoulder and sighs. “Y’know, this dude is really getting on my nerves. Trevor told me that he’s like… completely in love with you or something.” Peter Kavinsky, your best friend and a royal pain in your ass, finds this revelation abso-fucking-lutely hilarious for some reason. Asshole.