[damn it. there's that intensity again. he's not afraid of atem, not in the slightest, but that pushback was pretty hard to ignore. it's instinct to push right back, to quibble and argue and stomp his feet, except he can already tell it won't get anywhere. and more than that, the more they dawdle, the greater the risk for aforementioned infection.

so even as he shakes his head, he rolls up his sleeve. and he finally surrenders a little more context.]

Last time you were here, you wouldn't even let me touch you. Every time I tried, you acted like I threw I acid in your face.

[the aggravation in his tone eases up, replaced by something like regret. but only if atem strains to hear it.]

As far as friends or enemies, we're rivals. We'll always be rivals. That's all.

[sorry, no shutting up. just weak-willed grumbling.]