"Not as painful as - whatever you've got going on up there." He waves vaguely at the top of Alistair's head, where his hair is starting to take some interesting formations. Is it being braided up there? "What the hell are they doing?"
Pixies, fairies, goddamn mutant mosquitoes - fuck it, he doesn't care. He's two seconds from swatting them all flat with the heel of his palm. Or he would, if the suckers weren't zipping around quicker than his eye can track them.
"These're worse than mosquitoes," he grumbles, and smacks the tickling on one of his arms. Ah. Ow. He missed, and that hurt.
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Pixies, fairies, goddamn mutant mosquitoes - fuck it, he doesn't care. He's two seconds from swatting them all flat with the heel of his palm. Or he would, if the suckers weren't zipping around quicker than his eye can track them.
"These're worse than mosquitoes," he grumbles, and smacks the tickling on one of his arms. Ah. Ow. He missed, and that hurt.