[He was used to Ed's keeping of the beat, be it with his head or his feet or his fingers. It was mildly annoying when it caused a strand or ten to slide through his fingers, but a quick tug was usually all that was needed to remind his brother what he was doing.
That sass, however, earned him a bark of laughter and a playful shake of his hair via fingers in his hair.]
Brat. That is the song! And he is not my Regis. We're friends. Now stop moving or you'll be crooked.
no subject
That sass, however, earned him a bark of laughter and a playful shake of his hair via fingers in his hair.]
Brat. That is the song! And he is not my Regis. We're friends. Now stop moving or you'll be crooked.
[Even if he wished for more.]