harderdaddy | (Reply)

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Hissing, there's a swell of pride at getting even that brief rise of out him, but just as quick it's turned back on him.

Angel half stumbles, feet working fast to back him up, and thankfully his mind still seems to remember the layout without looking. That barb cuts deeper than he's like, and he tells himself its vanity that sparks his anger and not that he is jealous. Nothing to be jealous of. Vox can have him.

"Good thing I couldn't care less," he says, claws snagging in a painting as tries to keep some distance between them, tearing the canvas with a loud, long rip.