You didn't get you. You really really didn't get it. You weren't easy to anger at all, you couldn't count a lot of instances when you really got mad about something.

But this annoying little shit was starting to really get on your nerves. Nostradamus was very aware of that fact, and he was having a lot of fun with it.

He was really living up to his obnoxious titles right now. You were sure your fingers would any second now start digging right into wood of the chair's armrest that you were sat on.

Just ignore him. Just ignore him—

“Are you okay? You look like something's bothering you."