peterpaulwisdom:

As soon as the words had left his mouth he knew instantly it wasn’t the greatest choice of phrasing, that she was quite possibly lining up every damn piece of ammo shed accumulated since the day they’d met and was ready to fire in a stream of critical hits; which, was probably a lot. So he rose his head slightly and silence would continue, ready to dodge any sudden hits with a stream of feigned nonchalance and horror. He was right though, that stupid dragon was out to get him and would not stop until one or quite possibly both of them were dead.

“I dunno what it bloody is. He hasn’t liked me since the start!” True, but Pete hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to get along with the dragon, a mutual hatred of the others mere existence while their one common ground just so happened to be out of the house. While she was around they managed to play nice, pausing with all but a nasty expression from one to another with subtle jabs thrown like tiny arrows, knowing that once she would depart once more: it was war.

Maybe if you stopped bein such a bloody asshole we wouldn’t be in this mess.

Unsure of whether or not the creature would even be able to hear him he figured it was worth a shot, hoping it wasn’t a string of words simply muttered alone, descending slowly into madness and mental arguments with himself. Briefly would his gaze meet those dangerous yellow slits, not wanting to risk a glare lest she catch it and force both parties into that knitted abomination. Which she would, no doubts were held she would manage somehow, and quite frankly the entire thought left a bitter taste in the already salty Englishman’s mouth.

                                 ‘Wᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs sɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇxɪsᴛ. ‘

The echo left in his opponent’s head was reptellion and cold and just a taste of what floated around in Kitty’s all day, the devil on her shoulder standing in opposition of the slimy Britt in front of him. All his muscles were tensed as though if Kitty were to turn her back in some stroke of luck he’d strike but with each impatient tap of her foot the rise and fall of his rib cage quickened in the most subtle display of fear he could muster in his small if not tense body. A glance was spared in his unbreaking, unblinking (a benefit to the second pair of eyelids) glare toward his lady as he thought on ways to defuse the situation before inserting one more nagging thought into Pete’s head through use of that strange alien power that’d made it’s home in Pete’s home: ‘I ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴛʜɪs sɪɴᴄᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴀɢᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴀʟᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.’

He was sure to shake off what tension he had before he approached her, a tiny shimmy that would, in any other situation, earn him a coo and a string of compliments on his shiny scales. But there she stood, a stone pillar in the wake of his display, arms crossed, frown lop-sided and pointed. His approach was a gentle glide, taking his place at her shoulder and bumping his muzzle into her cheek before speaking: “ہم آپ کو صرف لیڈی فخ کے لئے اچھی طرح”

“Aww…” The rebuttal was gentle and it looked as though the dragon had already won as she idly pet his head. But in one swift move she bagged and tagged him, having lulled him into a false sense of security it was easy to wrap him in the very sweater she threatened they both must wear if they didn’t clean up their act. The completely neutral look that had settled on her features hinted at her remorselessness as she locked eyes with Pete and the sweater the dragon was stuck in suddenly came alive as Lockheed tried to fight his way out. “Your side of the story Pete. Right here. Right now. Or you’re next.”