He scoffs, glancing down at the table. There's a conflicted look on his face as he runs a slender finger along the edge of the table, tracing one of the designs.
"The workmanship is acceptable. The theming is within my interests."
But he still doesn't get it. He doesn't get you, Yuugi. They aren't friends, and giving a person who isn't your friend a gift doesn't seem right. But then...he'd been held in Yuugi's arms just minutes ago, hadn't he? He'd accepted that, and allowed himself an emotional release.
Maybe that's why this wasn't sitting right with him--it was too much, too quickly.
"Thank you, I guess," he mutters.
Mokuba gives his brother such a look at that. Sometimes...he can't with you, Seto.
no subject
He scoffs, glancing down at the table. There's a conflicted look on his face as he runs a slender finger along the edge of the table, tracing one of the designs.
"The workmanship is acceptable. The theming is within my interests."
But he still doesn't get it. He doesn't get you, Yuugi. They aren't friends, and giving a person who isn't your friend a gift doesn't seem right. But then...he'd been held in Yuugi's arms just minutes ago, hadn't he? He'd accepted that, and allowed himself an emotional release.
Maybe that's why this wasn't sitting right with him--it was too much, too quickly.
"Thank you, I guess," he mutters.
Mokuba gives his brother such a look at that. Sometimes...he can't with you, Seto.