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“I’ll lock you in. For your safety.”
“Great!”
“Are you trying to amuse me?”
“What?”
“Sarcasm,” he said, “why are you trying to make me laugh despite how angry you are?”
“Oh? So you can tell that I’m angry with you? That’s good!”
He narrowed his eyes, as if he were understanding the true use of sarcasm for the first time. He touched me cautiously, then pulled me in equally cautiously. He went to kiss me, and I decided it would feel too sulky and childish if I didn’t kiss him back. So I kissed him back, but I didn’t give it my all, and I pulled away sooner than I really wanted to.
“Go then,” I said. “Go walk into the wall and have it suck you up into the little pod or whatever, so you can go do your big show-off battle or whatever, to keep the integrity of the breeding pack stable, or whatever.”
“Passive agressive approval,” he said, “the entry is right next to sarcasm in the Lexikon.”
“Go,” I growled.
He stepped backward a few paces, and soon the wall swallowed him up, and then he was gone.
