I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending to know how to fight.

It was Sunday morning, and Atton was desperately regretting letting Anakin win the shouting competition yesterday.

It'd seemed fine last night, after he'd removed the blaster carbine from the guest room and shoved the kid in there, because the kid seemed to be content taking apart electronic equipment rather than talk to him. But now the kid was sitting across from him at the dinner table, making his way through a bowl of the only cereal Atton had been able to find that wasn't too far past the expiry date.

"Take a holo, it lasts longer," Tebb muttered.

Atton rolled his eyes. "Really? That's the best you can come up with?" he said. "Keep shoveling that crap into your face, I don't wanna hear you snark."

"Am I getting on your nerves?" Tebb droned.

"Yes. Yes. That is exactly what you are doing. Thank you for recognizing the negative aspects of your behavior."

Tebb took another bite of his stale cereal. Very loudly. "Too bad."

Atton groaned. "Ugh."

To be honest, he didn't actually mind this, because as long as he could be actually annoyed at the kid, it was easy to shield off how profoundly uncomfortable this entire exercise made him.

[[ open, sure! ]]